Queen of the Rhombus
by LChan3706
Summary: Their cells are right across the hall from each other, the bulletproof glass giving neither any privacy. He can't stand the way that strange-looking woman laughs at him. The 'Clown Prince of Crime' refuses to become a jester for that infuriating Queen. Post-TDK. (Chapter 17 under revision)
1. Arkham

"C'mon, _freak_."

The guards drag a man down the hallway, gripping hard on the straight jacket wrapped around his body. They jostle him around, tugging back and forth without allowing him to get his footing. The prisoner is already disoriented from the drugs in his system. A necessary evil if the transfer was to be a success. The two men hold on tight, refusing to give any leeway despite the assurances from the Blackgate officers.

_Smart. _

They know better than to believe a few doses will be enough to hinder any attempt at lunging for their throats _if_ the chance presents itself. This man is perfectly capable of doing that without his hands. One of the new transport guards learned that lesson the _hard _way.

A malicious grin spreads across the Joker's face, relishing in the metallic taste still in his mouth. He slumps down further, letting the guards carry his weight if that's what they _really_ want. If his arms weren't pinned to his chest, they would've already been choking on their own blood, begging for mercy they'll never receive. He's capable of many things, but that isn't one of them.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" Elbowing him in the ribs, the tall, dark-haired guard laughs at the dark eyes narrowing in on him. "Don't give me that look, fuckface. You're not in Blackgate anymore, remember that. This is a whole different ballgame."

Joker's brow arches up and his lips back over his dingy teeth to give the man an incredulous look. As if he didn't know where he is... This isn't his first rodeo. He knows the effect his appearance has on other people and purposefully makes use of the unattractive assets.

"_Gross._.. Geez, every time one crazy goes, another comes strolling right in..." The guard shakes his head, jerking the clown up when his bare feet start dragging behind him. "Get on your damn feet already! You keep messing around, I'll knock you out and drag you face-down across the floor. We have other shit to do, besides lugging trash around."

"Ahh... Thought this was part of your job. Guess you're in the wrong line of work, uh-" Dark eyes glance at the name tag on the uniform. "_Harold_..." He will make sure to remember that for later.

"Shut the hell up..." The two men pull him up, trying to get him on his feet. A cackle that makes their grip tighten on his sides pours from his ruined lips, causing them to freeze on the spot. Everyone knows when the Joker has one of his fits, it's followed up by something terrible. This time, it's not from anything he plans to do at the current moment_. No._ He's laughing at _them_. They are already tired just from carrying his weight, that's why they're making him stand on his own.

_So weak..._

"Stop being so rough with him. No matter who he is or what he's done, that man is still a patient in our facility. Our job is to keep everyone safe, not take our anger out on someone that's restrained."

Harold looks back when another guard approaches them. The man's tall with blond hair and meticulously-ironed uniform without a single unwarranted crease in sight.

Joker clicks his tongue, glaring at the newcomer. Another one of _those_ guys... The urge to mess up his clothes is tempting. They're too neat that it's agitating. This man will be locked in the vault for later as well.

"_Tch._ Stop being such a pain in the ass. Didn't one of your friends get killed because of this maniac's stunts? Why are you defending him? If it was me..." Brown eyes narrow down at the clown, using the hold on the straight jacket to shake him back and forth. He can't help grinning as his head lulls from one side to the other from the force.

"Enough! It can't be helped... Is hurting a patient going to change anything? The whole point of this place is to rehabilitate men like him. How is abuse going to make a difference? No wonder the patients don't trust us and are acting out." The man's expression turns grim, watching the two other guards look at him like he was insane.

"This _thing_ is not a man. Second, there is no rehabilitating anyone here. You damn well know that already. Arkham is just a hyped-up super-prison. If we don't offer counseling and medication, the funding gets cut in half. It's what separates us from Blackgate. Besides, the meds make these loons easier to handle." Harold sneers, looking down at the clown curling his lips.

Joker sighs, becoming impatient from waiting for these two to finish up rambling about whether he should be hit or not. The guards will do whatever they want as soon as this other guy leaves anyway, so what's the point? It doesn't matter. The beatings are just one way to pass the time.

All it takes is a few words through the cell door to get them to come in and fight. When things became too monotonous, it's better than nothing. These guys are too easy to rile up, letting their emotions cloud their judgment. That's what makes this fun... To see someone pretending to be _so_ composed, then lose their shit in just a few minutes. They're like putty in his hands, easy to manipulate at every twist and turn.

"_Hah_... I don't want to have another conversation like this with you guys. Don't let me see this happen again or I'll have to inform Dr. Arkham about your conduct." The blond-haired guard folds his arms over his chest, eyeing the men in front of him.

Joker rolls his eyes up into his head, craning his neck back at a painful angle. This is becoming incredibly boring... Of course, every conversation and action gives him more information than they probably would like, and it'll be useful for when the time comes.

"Fuck you too, John..." Gripping the binds harder, the guard pushes the clown forward, wanting to get away from the nosy man watching them.

Going down the hall, Harold grumbles to the other man helping out with their newest resident. Muttering curses under his breath, his irritation is apparent while his eyes dart along the doors that line the walls. Little does he know, the man being pushed around is intently listening to every word that falls from his lips.

"Goddamn asshole... I can't stand him one bit, Derek. All he does is fucking put his nose into _everything_. Piece of shit... Always acting like he's better than the rest of us." The shoes stomping against the floor only reveal how irate he is to those watching, even if he doesn't realize it.

"I know, _right?_ Who the hell does that dick think he is?"

Harold's about to retort when he freezes, looking at the grinning man next to him. Realizing the mistake he almost made, he pulls out the black baton from his waist, hitting the back of Joker's knees.

"No one's fucking talking to you!" Grabbing a handful of faded green hair, the guard jerks his head back harshly when his knees gave out from the blow.

"WOO! HAHAHA! How'd ya know I like it rough, Harold?" The clown cackles when the grip on his hair tightens, yanking his head back further.

Grinding his teeth from the rage filling him, the guard suddenly stops when he notices the toothy smile and how those dark eyes light up at the beating. He's itching to smash every disgusting tooth out of this maniac's mouth.

"Woah_! Woah!_ Chill out! Can't you see he's baiting you? I was working here the last time they brought this guy in. Don't let him get to you or you'll be sorry. That's exactly what he wants!" The red-haired guard holds up his arm, trying to block the weapon from making contact.

Joker pops his lips, feeling agitated and narrowing his sight on the man getting in the way. He remembers him... What a pain in the ass. Pushing a breath through his clenched teeth, his jaw shifts when he's pulled back to his feet.

"Yeah... You're right. I wasn't thinking. Let's just get him to his cell. I need to have a cigarette..." Harold sighs, giving the patient a shove while he trying to shake off the temptation to beat him to the floor. That's how these guys always are. Besides a few little quips here and there, the clown hasn't really done anything to him in the tens minutes since they met. It's not like he killed his family or cut something off his body in the past, but the guards come up with any reason to pull out those goddamn nightsticks. His appearance, crimes against _others_, what he stands for… They don't need to find a legitimate reason to lash out, just being him is more than enough for them.

"That sounds nice right about now..." The clown grins, waiting for another push or tug. He can see the wheels turning in the man's head, debating his next move. From the tense facial muscles and how his jaw clenches, it must be a real battle to resist grabbing that weapon. The sight only makes him sneer in anticipation of it.

"Just shut up." Looking forward, Joker rolls his eyes, knowing it won't take much to make this guy snap. He's going to be _easy_...

Snaking his tongue out, it traces along his bottom lip, sliding up to the corner of his scar. The cracked skin is always annoyingly dry, more so when his greasepaint's not on. That's one of the irritating parts of being locked up and not having easy access to the usual things at his disposal. That and the itchy orange jumpsuits the patients are shoved in to...

With his arms pinned to his chest in the straight jacket, he can't scratch _anything_. This one isn't even cleaned and smells like sweat. There's no doubt the guards saved this especially for him after hearing about the transfer.

Walking down the bleak hall, cells are lining the white walls on either side. Instead of the normal metal doors that have a little window for the guards to look through, Arkham opted to use a different approach when a large amount of funding was donated from Wayne Enterprises.

Now each cell has a large pane of bulletproof glass, with small holes strategically placed for the guards to point their guns on a patient if need be. This gives the inmates zero privacy for 'safety reasons'. Too many times there've been incidences that occurred from the guards not watching properly or having a limited view from the hall to know what they're doing. With the see-through doors, everything can be observed at all times.

None of the guards have the time or patience to sit and look through the tiny window of every cell at all hours of the day. Now they can walk up and down the halls at intervals, while the CCTV cameras placed in different spots act as another pair of eyes.

Each room has another directly across from it and the ones on either side are separated by a short distance. The cells themselves are small... Only a tiny bed and what used to be white walls below a dingy light coming from the ceiling. If the patients have to use the bathroom or bathe, they need to be escorted by the guards. Just like with the doors, Arkham learned the hard way not to give too much freedom... It will only bite them in the ass. Having access to pipes and the sewers have caused too much trouble from the people living here being more creative than originally anticipated.

Joker hums a little tune while he's guided pass the cells, glancing around at the array of orange-clad familiar faces. Eyes peer through the glass when he walks by, some widening with surprise and others narrowing in anger. A wicked grin spreads across his face from the other residents taking an interest in his arrival.

_'Guess news still doesn't go too far 'round here...'_

"Oh, my _old_ buddies!" He snickers as guards look at him with disgust, not picking up on the sarcasm.

_'Hmm... Scarecrow, Professor Pyg..._' Dark eyes flickered from one room to the one directly across, before moving on to the next set._ 'Lock-Up, someone who doesn't matter... Double X, some old hag... Clayface, Riddler... Two nobodies... More nobodies and a fat guy... Crazy Quilt, Falcone... Another nobody with an even more nobody across from her...'_

Joker makes several mental notes of who is here and which rooms they are being held in. Details are _very_ important. Information is everything, after all.

"Here you are, ass-clown. Enjoy your stay, 'till you die." Harold pulls out a keycard attached to a retractable cord from the breast pocket of his uniform and holds it over an electronic pad. The moment it connects, the red light turns greens with a beep and the glass door opens up.

When the clown stands there for a moment to eye his surroundings, Harold hisses in annoyance. The guard shoves him hard through the threshold of the cell, making him lose balance from the meds and straight jacket. He can't brace himself and collides hard with the cement floor as he topples over.

Joker grit his teeth, shifting his legs and trying to sit up. That man's finding a comfortable spot on his list... One day very soon, he's going to make the buffoon smile and _not_ at his jokes.

"_Ahh_... Home _sweet_ home!" The two guards raise their brows at him while the glass door closes, not understanding what he seems so happy about. Most patients fight and flail when they're being dragged in, not wanting to be trapped in a small cell with no way of getting out… Then again, none of them are _the Joker_.

"HAHAHA!" They're all so dim... The only reason he was brought in is that _he let them_. If he wanted to run away, there were plenty of chances in Blackgate, and when they were transporting him to the asylum.

"Shut up, _freak_..." Harold stands next to the glass door, waving the other guard off. The red-head shifts his head to the side in confusion, before something apparently dawns on him from the stupid expression filtering over his face. The clown stares at the pair suspiciously when the other man nods, turning to walk away and leaving him alone with Harold.

_'Wasn't this asshole gonna have a cigarette? What's he waiting around for?' _

The guard's back is to his cell. Even if the holes through the glass were big enough to fit his hands through, he won't be able to reach him. If only he took a few steps back, Joker can grab the back of his uniform and yank him closer to smash his head against the heavy glass… _If_ it wasn't for this damn jacket, that big-mouth would be done for.

_'Too easy for someone like him. He deserves a personal touch...'_

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he runs his tongue up his scar in irritation. They purposefully left the straight jacket on him. They usually do that for the first few days, even though they're supposed to take it off after transporting him... Until he does something that warrants putting it back on. When he realized it would be a long-term accessory and was called a _'freak'_ from some shitty brat, that's when the teeth came out. That punk was a Blackgate employee anyway, not that the Arkham guards care.

The dirty jumpsuit is making his back itch something fierce. Scooting across the floor towards the bed, he shifts around, trying to use the corner to relieve the annoyance.

"_Hah_… That's the _spot._" Dark eyes watch the guard while moving against the metal frame. Noticing the guard's watching something in the opposite direction, he follows the trail towards the cell across from him.

Shifting his head to the side, Joker stops what he was doing. His brows furrow when he sees what the guard's staring at. Using his feet, he drags himself across the floor and up towards the glass door, trying to get a better look at what's _so_ interesting. This might come in handy down the road.

In the little, dingy room across the hall, a woman is sitting on the cold floor. Her back is propped up against the side of the bed, quietly reading a book.

The small woman has long pink hair that curtains around the orange jumpsuit all the patients wear. The unusual shade goes straight up to the roots, making the clown question whether or not it's dyed. No one in Arkham is given anything to color their hair with unless she was just brought in too. Even then, there should be _some_ natural roots poking through. His own hair needed it a while ago, but those are trivial things.

Narrowing his dark eyes closer to the glass, he's able to better view of her appearance while she reads. Her complexion is incredibly fair, a stark contrast to his own naturally tan skin, and more similar to the white greasepaint he likes to smear across his face. Bright green eyes flicker around quickly, drinking in line after line of the words in front of her. A violet rhombus-shaped mark is etched into her forehead, making the clown's neck to crane back as he scrutinizes the odd symbol.

Is it a tattoo? A gang insignia? A drunken mistake?

_'What a weird-looking person... and that's coming from me.' _

He muses over the possibilities, watching the woman across the hall. She has a delicate face with pink lips, the bottom one being sucked into her mouth while she grazes her teeth over it, completely absorbed into the book. It's far cry from what he usually sees in a place like this...

Looking her over, his brows raise when he glances at the hands holding the book. There's strange material covering them with only the tips of her fingers exposed. They appeared to be metallic fingerless gloves, but the way they move when she turns the page shows they're not stiff like he expected them to be.

_'Interesting...'_

Seeing the way Harold is staring at her and how _absurd_ she looks, only serves to pique his interest. What's a woman like her doing in a place like this?

It's clear now that Harold isn't standing outside of his cell just to guard him. He's watching the woman across from them, although the reason isn't entirely clear. What it because she's attractive? Is she a problem? Did she anger or do something to him?

This chick doesn't look like the type to cause trouble, but appearances can easily be deceiving. He learned that a long time ago. No one's sent to Arkham for _nothing_.

Glancing at Harold, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. Time to push some more buttons... Leaning in towards one of the holes closest to him, the clown shifts to get closer, licking up the side of his scar.

"Whatcha reading, dollface?" Cocking his head to the side, he stares at the woman, patiently waiting for a reaction.

_Nothing._

"What's wrong? _Hmm?_ We're neighbors now. Shouldn't we get to know each other, get a little more comfortable? We're gonna be here for a _while_. I can always slither on over when big-bad Harold isn't around." Peeking up towards the guard, his grin tugs at the scars in the corner of his mouth at the buffoon's revulsion. "Ya can always read to me while I lay my head on that pretty, little lap. If you're a _good girl_, maybe you can run those dainty fingers through my hair..."

The woman glances up from the book, her green eyes shooting over in his direction. He doesn't understand _why_, but when she looks at him, he feels the ungodly urge to straighten his back. It doesn't matter, that's something he can muse about later. _If_ he even remembers, which probably won't happen unless this gives him a good laugh.

_'Go ahead. Let me see that look of disgust...' _

That's how everyone reacts when they see his scars. Fear has a good running for the top spot... It always brings him joy to make people feel uncomfortable. In a different life, they might've made _him_ feel that way about the puffy, jagged marks around his mouth, but that's so long ago, he can't recall that sensation anymore. That and quite a few others have been lost to the passage of time.

Green eyes gloss over his face, trailing down to the straight jacket pinning his arms to his chest. Part of him is more annoyed now about the guards leaving it on as she inspects him, running his tongue over the forked scar splitting his bottom lip. Her face is expressionless, giving him nothing to work with. He arches a brow, waiting for that sickening look everyone has to cross her features.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, she throws her head back and _laughs_. A hand clutches her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut, practically falling over from becoming hysterical.

Joker grits his teeth, seething just under the surface. What's so goddamn funny? His scars? His appearance? The straight jacket? The way she looks at him and laughs hits a nerve, making the vein in his forehead throb. He wasn't expecting her to react like that... She's supposed to be _horrified_ that he even spoke to her… Instead, she's laughing like a maniac, the way he probably would have. Hers sounded very different compared to his. Instead of a piercing, raucous noise he makes, this one's similar to chimes in the wind... Chimes that he wants to rip down and set fire to.

_'Fucking bitch!' _

This woman is about to take the number-one spot on his list, mentally changing the order quickly. Harold was nowhere near getting under his skin, like this little witch.

"_Dumbass_. You better hope she doesn't get a chance to run her hands through that greasy mop on your head. Haha." Now the guard's laughing at him too. As soon as he gets a chance, he'll wipe those smiles off their faces and replace them with one of his own. Shaking his head to clear it, he has to get back on track.

"What's your name, sweetheart? What's a little thing like you doing in a naughty place like this? Did you steal that _book_? Is that why you're _here_?" The woman stops laughing and wipes the tears from her hysteria on the sleeve of her jumpsuit. Without another word, she goes back to reading, paying him no mind.

"Shut the fuck up already and don't talk to her... No fraternizing among patients, unless you want to fraternize with my nightstick." The dark-haired man narrows his eyes down at him, gritting his teeth.

"You can't follow a rule and break one in the same sentence. It's _against_ the rules." Joker let his eyes slide back, rolling his head along his shoulders.

"Just shut up." Turning his back to him, Harold looks back towards the woman in the other cell. The clown smiles from watching the guard. He gives away too much information with every word and action.

_Too easy_…

Glancing back at the cell across from his, he bites the inside of his cheek in irritation. That woman bothers him... If only his arms weren't tied down, there's no doubt by tonight he can get out of his cell and wrap his hands around that skinny, pale neck of hers.

This might turn out more entertaining than he originally intended.


	2. Leave It

The hours are ticking by torturously slow... Sitting on the small bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, Joker mindlessly stares at the wall. It's been three days since he was transferred over from Blackgate, after inciting a riot that left five guards and ten inmates dead. That doesn't include the ones from his little excursions during the night...

The urge to get up and do _something_ is gnawing on his insides. He's never been one for sitting around this long. His arms are still pinned to his chest by the straight jacket the guards so _graciously_ left on him. It's not a big deal... Aside from the purple trench coat he typically wears, this kind of jacket is something he's gotten used to a long time ago.

That doesn't change the fact that it's still annoying. He knows how things are run in here, even if it's been a while since his last stay. The building is still as ugly and dull as ever, just the way he likes. Even if they upgraded the doors and cameras, it wouldn't be Arkham without that sense of foreboding people mention. The clown doesn't know what they're talking about. To him, it feels like a home away from home..._or whatever that is._

It's during the nighttime when everything becomes _livelier_. Most of the 'patients' are people of the night, stalking the dark streets of Gotham and doing what they do best, he included. The dingy lights in the hallways are never turned completely off, the guards know better than to dim them in a place like this. They're always dirty, giving off a grayish hue, but it's more than enough to see. The monsters that live in the shadows don't need light to get around, unlike these fools that trip over their own feet under a 30-watt bulb…

The flashlights get pulled out from the _handy-dandy_ utility belts around their waist when they need them, or just feel the urge to shine it on an irritating prisoner during their rounds. If the guards were smart, they'd leave them alone, but even a security job gets boring. _Apparently_. Most of them do their jobs the way they're supposed to, but a handful are spiteful and cruel at times.

_Oh, the familiar places…_

Joker remembers how one guard would constantly bang his nightstick along the bars of the cells with his flashlight shining bright for hours on end. That didn't last long... After a few sleepless nights, the clown decided to let him know how much he appreciated all the racket.

Looking through the glass door, he scrutinizes the new guard walking up and down the halls. Just from a single glance, it's apparent this man is new at the job. Tall and dark, his head constantly moves from one side to the other, peering into each cell as he does his rounds. Each time he goes by, the clown gives him a toothy smirk, making him quickly look away.

_'He's so on edge. Heh. Wait till it gets dark, buddy.'_

Dark eyes dart across the hall to the cell opposite from his. _That_ woman is lying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed with a book in her hand. She has a stupid grin while kicking her feet back and forth, entirely engrossed with whatever she's reading. His lip curls up in distaste at the sight.

_'Bitch... Acting like she's right at home...'_

The woman that laughed at him the other day... When the guards aren't escorting her to who-knows-where, all she does is lay around like a cow, reading without a single care in the world. It's obnoxious and boring to watch.

The moment this straight jacket comes off, he'll sneak over to her cell in the middle of the night and break that skinny little neck...

One glance at her and it's clear the asylum staff was picking favorites. Unlike the jumpsuit he still has on, hers appears nice and clean, brighter than a lot of the ones the other patients wear. There's a handful of books on the floor beside the bed, most of them are medical books from the titles along the spines. Her covered hands lazily turn each page, green eyes trailing back and forth while she reads on her neatly made bed.

She just seems overly clean and organized... _It's irritating_. The urge to ruffle her feathers and tear that cell apart is itching at him. It's too much order in a chaotic place that he used to enjoy. If he's going to stay here until all the pieces are in place, then he'll make sure to ruin the little pristine world this woman has warped around her.

Sitting up and shifting towards the edge of the bed, he plants his feet on the floor to get up. Knowing most of the other patients in the asylum, he doesn't understand what's with this person. Everything about her screams of a rich university brat, who's a bookworm and wouldn't do _anything_ to get into trouble.

Too dull and stagnant... Just watching her is sucking the life right out of him.

Nothing about her seems to fit in place here. Reading people is something he's very confident about. After all, everything he does revolves around doing what he wants and knowing how the people involved will react to it.

It's not lost on him that appearances can be deceiving. The way she speaks to the guards so politely, how they don't hassle her, the fact that she doesn't rock around or mutter to herself, as a lot of the others do... It makes her more difficult to read. There's a wall between what she wants people to perceive and what's actually behind it, but for some reason…he can't see it. It's like she's wearing a mask that completely covers her face and the rocks he keeps throwing aren't enough to put a crack in it.

No matter what he says through the small holes in the glass door, he isn't getting a reaction. _Pretending not to hear or see him_... As if that will last. When the guards hit the glass and yell at him, she doesn't even flinch. It's only when one of the men stands in front of her cell door, that she looks up and smiles _so_ sweetly at them.

That _disgustingly_ sweet smile makes him want to punch her straight in the mouth... That'll wipe that calm look right off. He wants to see a different expression painted across that pale face. Anger, fear, surprise… Just anything else besides that carefully-measured appearance she always has.

Stepping up to the glass, he leans in towards one of the spaces, looking across the hall. "Hey, dollface... Whatcha reading there?" His dark eyes attentively watch for any hint of a change in her expression.

_Nothing_.

"Ya got quite a collection there... Guess the guards _really_ like you. _Hmm?_ Ya know, it gets pretty boring around here. How 'bout you slide one of those books over? _C'mon_... Don't be stingy!" The pinkette suddenly glances up at him, making a grin spread across his ruined mouth. This is the first time since the other day that she even looked in his direction.

Arching a thin eyebrow, she holds up the book in her hand, waving it back and forth. It's like she's asking if he wants _that_ one. He doesn't really care and is more interested to see what she'll do.

Shaking her head, she opens the book and starts reading again. He cocks his head to the side, wondering what's going on in that little head of hers.

"Even if I _did_ slide this over to you, what can you do all tied-up like that?" She chuckles softly and turns the page, not bothering to look back up at him.

Joker grits his teeth, feeling agitated from the sound of chimes assaulting his ears. Once again, she's laughing at his expense... _laughing at him._ No one does that shit and lives to tell about it.

"Wanna find out?" A malicious grin spreads across his lips. Does she _really_ think he can't do anything because of a shitty straight jacket? This is nothing, but this witch clearly can't grasp the situation. Does she even know who she's talking to?

_'She doesn't or she wouldn't be so calm. Stupid woman...'_

This is fine though... At least he got a reaction. Every word and action people give off tells more than they realize. The more she talks, the easier it will be to break her down. When he finally gets her to that point, she's going to _suffer_...

The woman lays the book down on the bed and peers back up, her green eyes roaming over him, taking everything in. He cranes his neck back, wondering what she's doing now. This is the most interaction he's been able to draw out in the last few days...

The pinkette's face brightens up with that obnoxious smile, watching him with an expression he can't place. Something twists in the pit of his stomach, suddenly feeling suspicious of her. There's a mischievous glint in those green eyes that he just barely registers, the only hint of a personality he's seen on the pinkette.

"I'll have to thank Dr. Arkham for sending a _clown_ to entertain me... It's been getting pretty boring recently... _Heheh!_" Joker clenches his jaw tightly as his eyes widened in rage.

_'This fucking woman's making fun of me again! So, she does know who I am...and still laughs!_

The pinkette lets out a shaky breath when the laughter slowly dies down, kicking her feet around in amusement. Regaining her composure, she picks the book up and goes back to reading. The 'clown' doesn't seem worth her time, not even bothering to throw a glance across the wall when he smashes his forehead against the glass door.

"_You little bitch!"_

* * *

"How do you think Jerry's holding up?" The dark-haired guard muses, taking another sip from his coffee cup.

"He'll be fine, Harold. We all had to learn somehow... Can't be a pansy in this place. He needs to learn the ropes quickly, but I can tell how nervous he is around the inmates. They'll see it as a sign of weakness and eat him up." Taking a drag from a cigarette, Derek leans up against the cement wall in the courtyard. It's the one place in the asylum where the employees can relax during their breaks without having to see any of the patients at all. Sometimes, they need at least five minutes to themselves where that ugly orange isn't in sight.

It's going to be another _long_ day dealing with the insanity caught between these walls. Always the same shit, just in a different jumpsuit. Taking patients to and from their cells for sessions with their psychiatrists, escorting them to the bathrooms, even being forced to stand there when they're allowed to take a shower. The guards have to constantly be on alert and watch for even the smallest bit of movement because they never know when one of them will snap or try to strangle someone.

"Yeah... I guess that's true. I'm just surprised they have him watching D-block today. That's _not_ a good idea. Those lunatics are gonna smell fresh meat and go berserk." Harold sighs and pulls out a pack of smokes from his pocket, needing something to help him relax. It doesn't feel right letting a newbie do _their_ job.

"If he's smart, which I hope for all our sakes that he is, then he won't talk to any of them. All it takes is letting your guard down _one time_ and next thing you know, they're grabbing at you through the door. I gave him a little pep talk this morning." Derek nods to himself, wondering if the new guy was even listening with how anxious he seemed. The last thing they need is another first-timer getting attacked for being careless.

"I wouldn't be so nervous if that _clown_ wasn't in that block, but that's where we need to keep him. I can't count the number of times that bastard messed with the staff's heads. Always pulling some shit... I've been waiting for the last few days for something to happen, but nothing yet. As far as I can tell, anyway." Harold puts a cigarette between his lips, lifting the lighter up towards his mouth. He despises the clown more than any of the other inmates in the asylum. His behavior, appearance, manner of speech, everything about him puts people on edge.

"Don't get comfy. It's when you think he's behaving that he's at his worst. Like I said before, I've been working here for a long time. This guy isn't someone we can understand or predict and need to be cautious at every step. As soon as you think he's starting to get with the program... _BAM!_ That's when he pulls his shit." Waving his hand in the air with a cigarette between his fingers, Derek frowns thinking about all the clown's past stunts.

"Like what?" The redhead almost laughs at his friend's question. For hating the Joker so much, it's surprising how little he knows about him that doesn't involve the most recent crime spree.

"Let's see… Wandering the halls at night and randomly letting out other patients, leaving little _gifts_ in the doctor's offices, maiming, or killing some of the guards... No one understands why he gets out of his cell and doesn't try to escape. He just walks through the halls, like some creepy ass ghost. Check out the CCTV footage... Weird shit. It's when he _does_ decide to leave that things get out of control. We still don't know how he got a shitload of fertilizer into the facility… And _don't_ get me started on that horrible laugh..." Derek runs a hand over his face, watching his friend's eyes widen.

"_Christ._.. I'm glad I wasn't here for _that_. I don't get why that Batman doesn't just kill him already. It'd be a lot easier than what they've been doing. All that happens is that he gets locked up, then escapes. Lord knows how many news articles I've read about it. What are they thinking?" Harold taps his smoke, letting the ash fall to the ground.

"I'd like to ask you guys what _you're thinking_?" The two men glance up when another guard approaches with a stern look on his young face.

"_Goddammit_, John. What do you want now?" Harold scoffs from seeing the blond-haired man standing there with his arms crossed. Always being a prissy little pain in the ass.

"Why haven't you taken that straight jacket off the patient in cell 0801?" John's blue eyes don't waver as the other guards look at each other in disbelief.

"You mean the clown? Why the hell should we? That psycho is nothing but trouble when he can move around." Derek chides, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"He's a patient at our facility and there are rules of conduct we're expected to follow. If he hasn't posed a threat to himself or anyone else, he is supposed to have it taken off after the first day of observation. Derek, you've been working here longer than I have, right? I trust you know the rules and regulations _by now_?"

"_Tch_..." The redhead glares at the man standing in front of them. He can't stand this guy. Always doing everything by the book and leaving no room for argument. It won't be long before he files _another_ report with the head of the asylum, making their lives harder than it needs to be.

"Whatever. I'll take it off that piece of shit. If anything happens, you can take responsibility. _Got it?_" The idea of even getting close to the clown makes his skin crawl.

"As long as we have an understanding... And don't wait until it's dark out to do it. I'm sure it's very uncomfortable to be confined like that for days on end. You wouldn't like it, right Harold?" The dark-haired guard flicks his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with his shoe.

"Wouldn't know about all that. You know, John... You _really_ need to lighten up. Maybe have a few drinks, get a girlfriend? I think this place is starting to drive _you_ mad. You're acting like this is a hotel or something and we need to make sure those animals are comfortable. Once you start seeing that clown as a human being, that's when you'll be sorry!"

John narrows his eyes on the two men, before turning away. "I don't need _you_ telling _me_ about the Joker..."

* * *

Joker sits on the cold floor with his head pressed up against the glass. Barely noticing the new guard passing by from his peripheral, he pays him no mind. There are more important matters to attend to besides teasing a newbie, like glaring across the hall.

That _irritating_ woman... As soon as he gets the chance, he's going to kill her. Even with all the muttering and screaming from the other patients throughout the day _and_ night, her silence and attitude are far more annoying. However, it's when she speaks, that his rage can barely be contained.

It won't take long. He always gets out, one way or another. The guards who've been here for a long time know from his previous stunts what to watch out for, but the new ones are a different story. It doesn't matter anyway, he always thinks of new, creative things to do and people are easy to manipulate. The clown already had a good idea of how this will play out, before stepping a foot outside of the police truck that brought him here.

"Alright, asshole. Stand up and back away from the door." A gruff voice yells out as footsteps come closer to his cell door. He grins wide, knowing that at least _something_ is going to happen. It's better than sitting here for the last three days with nothing to do.

The two guards that escorted him to his cell the other day, stand outside the glass door with their usual disgusted expressions.

"Ah... _Harold_ and _Derek_... What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?" A snicker spills his ruined lips from seeing the agitated looks on the men's faces.

"Shut it clown and do what I told you. Get your ass up and step away from the door. You want that jacket off, right?" Harold glares at him, clearly not happy with the situation. He's probably worried about possible repercussions after beating him the other day. Without the restraints, it's fair game now.

"Already? _Oh, dear_… I thought you'd never ask!" Bolting up and backing away from the door, the clown sneers at the men, enjoying their discomfort. The guards know by now how dangerous it is going into the lion's den and taking off its chains. Even a complete fool can sense danger now and then...

_'About damn time! Hahaha!'_

Harold shakes his head while the other pulls out a nightstick. As soon as the keycard comes out and starts getting close to the control pad, the clown can't stop the malicious grin playing across his scarred mouth.

"_Harold_..." A soft voice from across the hall causes them all to freeze. The guard stops in his tracks, turning his head towards the woman's voice.

"Yeah? Is something wrong, Sakura?" Harold spins on his heel, looking at the glass door opposite of the one he's standing in front of.

Joker's dark eyes move over as well, arching a brow suspiciously. His lip curls up, pulling back and baring his teeth. What the hell does this woman think she's doing? Annoyance edges its way back into his mind, replacing the amusement he felt at the prospect of these men's uncomfortable circumstances. He doesn't like the interference... _Not. At. All._ He's only seconds away from getting this damn itchy thing off of him.

_'So... That's her name. I'll remember that when I break her neck.'_

The pinkette puts her book down, looks up at the guard. Remembering how Harold was staring at her the other day made him question quite a few things about what's actually going on here.

"_Don't_..." Her voice is quiet and gentle with no hint of anger or any negative feelings. It grates on the clown's ears, _almost_ as much as her laughter does. "Leave it on. He said he's going to strangle me in my sleep right after it comes off."

Harold glances from the woman lying across the bed, back towards the clown. His lips twist into a smirk, knowing this is the perfect scenario to get what he wants.

Joker stills as he hears the words coming from her mouth. His dark eyes widen in anger, feeling his blood vessels about to pop from the pressure. This bitch… He didn't say a _word_ about what he's planning on doing.

_And yet…_

"Is that so... Well, I guess we'll just have to let John know that he _does_ pose a threat to other patients, after all. Looks like you'll have more time to get comfy in that, buddy!" The guard laughs heartily, putting the keycard back into the breast pocket of his uniform.

The guards jump back when the clown smashes his forehead against the glass, seething and full of bloodlust. The woman smiles at him sweetly, turning back to her book.

If only he can get his hands on that witch, he'll wipe that arrogant look off of her face. She's going to be sorry... More than ever.

"Back away from the door, asshole!" Harold shoves his nightstick through one of the holes, jamming the end into the clown's gut, trying to push him back. He doesn't even flinch, glaring at the woman that's acting like nothing just happened.

"Do yourself a favor and stop fucking around! You're only making this harder on yourself. Just keep your mouth closed and don't mess with the other patients." Derek sighs, trying to calm down the irate man through the glass.

Joker scowls at the two imbeciles standing outside of his cell, trying to quell the anger boiling up inside of him. He needs to think straight and refuses to allow his limited emotions get the best of him. This isn't like him… _He's_ the one that makes people lose their shit while sitting there and laughing at them.

"Fucking _bitch_..." He mutters under his breath, glaring at the grinning woman.

_'She's smarter than I thought... I'm going to enjoy killing this one.'_


	3. Session

"Thank you, John. Let them know I'm ready."

A young, blonde in a long white coat turns away from the guard, stepping through the door to the small room. Short heels tap along the cold cement floor as she walks around the table, placed a safe distance from the entrance where the patients will be brought in. It's better to face the door than having someone come up from behind, guard, or not. These people only need a second to wrap their chain around a doctor's neck to create a hostage situation.

She always sits at the furthest end of the table, with her back to the wall. That way she can see anyone who comes through that door and know what she'll be dealing with. _Better safe than sorry_. Pulling out a metal chair, the young psychiatrist quietly sits down, watching the blond-haired man from the corner of her eye. Placing a hefty file down onto the smooth surface, she gives a practiced smile to the guard, letting him know that she _is_ ready for the next session.

When he walks through the door, a heavy sigh pushes her thin lips. It's hard to relax, especially in a place like Arkham. One wrong move or a careless mistake and it can all be over. A job this stressful is sure to age her quickly, sucking the youth and energy right out of her. It's almost like the patients here feed on the souls of the staff, taking everything they can and leaving nothing in return.

"Okay, Harleen... This one's not bad. Just relax now..." The woman mutters, trying to convince herself for some ungodly reason. Reaching up, her fingers gingerly caress the darkening marks around her neck, wincing when she touches a tender spot.

Just two hours earlier, one of the more hostile patients lunged for her throat after foolishly giving him some leeway. She should've known better, but wanted to believe there's still good in some people. Following five long months of sessions, Harleen thought they were making incredible progress.

To test the waters, she requested the guards take off his straight jacket, leaving him with only the handcuffs around his wrists. _Big mistake_. He used the chain linking the cuffs to strangle her when the chance presented itself. Within seconds, the guards were everywhere with their guns drawn, pointed directly at his head. Luckily, she has enough experience to put her fingers between the chain and her neck to keep some space, that way her airway wasn't completely obstructed or damaged.

_Tricks of the trade._

That is the reality of working in a place like this. The other doctors warned her about treating the patients here like they're _normal_ people... That most will never be cured and are barely human anymore_. She disagrees_. There's always hope, no matter how small and unlikely. These patients _are_ human beings, no matter how they look or act.

Every case is different, just like their appearances. Some patients have terrible burns or scars across their skin, while others have bodies that transformed into a humanoid being that barely resembles a human form. No matter how they look, they are still people that deserve a second chance. The notion that they're incurable is getting in the way of real progress. The other doctors have already given up a long time ago and it's those ideas of futility that created this kind of environment.

Arkham's initial purpose was to bring in patients that other facilities can't or refuse to treat, or don't have the necessary skills to handle them. Instead, this place has ended up becoming a _'super prison'_ for extreme or untreatable cases. Aside from the infamous criminals confined in these walls, it's just displaced people that no one knows what to do with anymore. There are a million different reasons a person can end up here, even if it seems like they shouldn't be. The people that are admitted or not is entirely out of her hands. That power resides in with those in charge.

A knock on the door makes her look up from the papers she's skimming over. It's time to start the next session. Harleen's the only doctor willing to take on more than a handful of patients at a time. It's been her goal since she started here to prove to the superiors that hard work and dedication _can_ pay off, that there's still hope. This isn't just a job to bring home a paycheck. It's far more than that...

"Come in."

The door opens with a dark-haired guard guiding a handcuffed patient towards the table. Pulling out the chair closest to the door, he motions with his hand for them to sit down.

"Thank you, Harold. We'll be fine from this point on. Nothing to worry about." She motions towards the camera on the wall. There's always someone behind a screen, carefully watching for the slightest bit of unnecessary movement from the patients, while guards wait right outside the door. Depending on the patient, they might stand inside the room as well, but Harleen despises that. She believes that it hinders the recovery process by making both parties feel uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Dr. Quinzel. I'm very much aware of that... I'll be right outside the door until you're finished." He nods, glancing at both of them, before stepping out.

Reaching for the recorder in the middle of the table, she presses the button to start the session.

"Tuesday, November 21st 20XX. Time is 11:00 AM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel beginning session with Patient 0802, Sakura Haruno."

Whenever the session starts or ends, she has to say the same details for the record. Sometimes these tapes will be reviewed depending on the circumstances or to see how a patient is progressing...or becoming worse. It's also important in case they need to be used for court hearings as evidence.

"Good morning, Sakura. How are you feeling today?" Blue eyes study the woman sitting across from her, watching for a reaction.

Out of most of her patients, this one is typically the most pleasant. It's been almost a year since Harleen was assigned to her case and not once has she tried anything. No lunging or attacking, no death threats, or creative uses of her restraints… It's for this reason the doctor feels comfortable with not keeping the woman confined in a straight jacket.

"My hands are itchy." The pinkette's green eyes stare down at the gloves on her hands, rubbing them together. Her voice is always soft, matching her outward appearance.

The first time they met, Harleen couldn't stop staring at her, almost transfixed. It's an odd sensation she hasn't experienced before… Just being around her is calming, making the nerves constantly gnawing at her sides dissipate. Compared to most of her patients, it's a welcome reprieve from the constant violence and mind games the others play. However, this is Arkham and appearances can be deceiving...

There's a man locked up on the bottom floor of the asylum, that has the appearance of a crocodile and another with the teeth of a shark. One patient that was brought in wears a pig mask and performs mind-boggling surgeries on people to transform them into his "_dolls_". There's a guy that commits crimes on specific dates in holiday-themed costumes, that isn't particularly _too_ violent by nature. He gets the asylum in the festive mood and his good behavior is usually rewarded by allowing him to help with the seasonal decorations in the dining hall and lounge area. Then, they have someone who looks like a large mound of clay that does things a human body shouldn't ever be able to do...

A variety the average mind can never imagine... To most people, the collection at Arkham is full of ghouls and monsters, the things nightmares are made from.

_They might be right._

The staff never knows what they're going to get when another person is admitted into the asylum. Most are mentally unstable, while some know very well what they're doing and can't care less. Compared to the others, _this_ patient is easy on the eyes and less damaging to the psyche.

"Well... I can speak to Dr. Arkham again about the issue. They only make you wear them as a safety precaution from what I understand. You haven't had any issues since our sessions started..." Harleen bites the inside of her lip while the woman stares at her. Those green eyes are always so _piercing_ as if they can see through everything. She can feel herself relaxing into the chair, the incident from earlier no longer biting at her nerves.

"I would appreciate that very much, doctor. These are quite…_troublesome_." Holding up her hands, she tilts her head to the side, shrugging her shoulders. It's understandable how uncomfortable it can be wearing those gloves for such long periods. Harleen can't imagine not being able to scratch her palms if they're sweaty or itchy. She would've snapped months ago in the same predicament.

"..._Listen_... If I can work something out to get those off, but if anything happens… _I'll _be held responsible. We've known each other for almost a year now, and I've seen a great improvement. The change in medications seem to be helping as well, but... I've looked through some records and _don't_ want a repeat. I honestly want to help you. Please, don't make me regret anything." The blonde pushes the papers on the desk around, mulling over what to do. Everyone deserves a second chance, but what about a third or fourth? _Even a fifth?_

"I like you, I really do. We're on a great path right now and I don't want to go in the opposite direction..." Grabbing the pen next to her file, she brings the tip to her lips, chewing on it. Staring at the pinkette across the table, she wishes it was possible to see inside of her mind, to know what's going on in there. Out of all the patients she works with, Sakura's the hardest to read, despite the pleasant demeanor.

"Maybe, this might be a good step. You've been doing great. If we take those off and show the higher-ups that you're serious about this _and_ do what needs to be done, then it'll prove to them how much progress we've achieved together... I want to trust you. I believe that you're close to rehabilitation."

Sakura smiled, closing her eyes and leaning back into the chair. A soft chuckle spills from her pink lips, subtly moving the cuffs around. "Is that so?... That's wonderful to hear! Haha... It's all thanks to _you_, doctor..."

Harleen swallows hard, trying to ignore the way her chest tightens. This is one of the reasons she enjoys their sessions... The pinkette is pleasant and always seems so calm and optimistic, but no one genuinely knows what's going on inside. As a psychiatrist, it's important to always stay on her toes with the patients. Some truly want help and to get better, while others are manipulative and just trying to get their way. She can't put a finger on which side of the spectrum this woman is on, maybe somewhere down the center...

"After I talk to Dr. Arkham, I'll let you know what's been decided..." The pinkette silently nods, looking down at her bound hands. Harleen tries to push down the guilt bubbling up from watching her. Feeling sorry for a patient is difficult for her not to do, she's only human after all, but it can lead to dire consequences if she's careless.

_'Change the subject. Distract yourself and her from the problem that can't be solved right now.'_

"…The guards tell me that you have a new neighbor across the hall? That you're having some..._problems_ with him. Do you want to tell me about it?" A smirk spreads across the woman's face, causing Harleen to arch a brow in curiosity about what she has to say. The guards already informed her of the situation and what they've seen and heard.

"_The clown?_ I wouldn't call _that_ a problem..." Blue eyes widen in surprise. Harold claims that the Joker is constantly trying to rile her up ever since he was admitted and locked into his cell. Looking through past files, this kind of behavior is something he does regularly to staff and patients alike, using it to his advantage when something happens. A guard will go into his cell after reaching a breaking point, only to end up being killed, then he wanders the halls doing ungodly things...

"Sakura... You do realize who that man is, correct? There's plenty of records of him killing patients, guards, staff members... If something goes wrong, he might try to kill you if we're not careful. Harold and I were thinking about discussing the situation with the administration to have one of your cells moved." That would be for the best. She's on such a good track toward rehabilitation. Why let someone ruin all of her progress with their nonsense?

"I'd rather not. At the end of the day, a man is _just_ a man... I'm not worried about it." Her voice is quiet, moving her hand around to inspect it.

"_Sakura!_ He's not _just_ a man...You need to be cautious about these kinds of things. Have some self-preservation... You're so close! I just don't want everything going down the drain over _one_ inmate."

"Doctor... If all the progress I've made can be undone by _one inmate_, then I haven't gotten very far, have I?" She cocks her head to the side, watching Harleen carefully. It's a valid point, but does she _really_ understand who this person is? The Joker is a master manipulator, that doesn't care about her life or rehabilitation. He will try to ruin everything just for fun and laugh about it.

"Didn't he threaten to strangle you in your sleep? Harold told me all about it..." The guards often talk to the patient's doctor about what goes on throughout the block. The details are important for their sessions. Some patients put on a mask or front for the medical staff, then act completely different when they're back in their cells.

"I know very well what I can and cannot handle. He's still in a straight jacket anyway and the guards are constantly going on rounds throughout the halls. I'm not afraid of that man. Besides, he's good for a laugh now and then." Sakura's head drops forward as she laughs, making the chain between her cuffs rattle.

Harleen can't stop the horrifying expression twisting her face. _The Joker_... doesn't scare her? _He's good for a laugh?_ Does she not understand the situation or know who he is? For the first time, she's truly worried about the pinkette's sake. That man is scheduled for a session in this very room for tomorrow_... with her_.

The other doctors outright _refused_ to take on his case. Some who've been here for years have tried their hand with all the experience they've accumulated to see if any progress can be made and it never goes well...

'_That's putting it lightly.'_

"Straightjacket or not, he's still very dangerous. It worries me how nonchalant you're acting about this..."

_'This situation might be useful. Maybe it can help with my sessions I'll have with him. Sakura isn't far off from being rehabilitated and the Joker is said to be a hopeless case. I can observe their interactions and get some insight into how his mind works. If I can make some sort of progress with a patient like him, it will show my superiors that anything is possible...'_

The blonde smiles to herself, thinking about the possibilities. The older doctors continuously look down on her for a multitude of reasons. Age, gender, appearance, experience. Always thinking they're better than her and that she's just a young doctor with impossible dreams. She'll show them how great of a psychiatrist she is. If someone can get through to _the Joker_, maybe even rehabilitate him, it will be groundbreaking.

Harleen can feel her heart racing from the path forming in her mind while the pinkette watches her curiously. This can be an inspiring success story that doctors will reference when speaking of Arkham Asylum. It may be the single greatest achievement of her career if it works out.

"…_Doctor?_" Shaking her head, she looks back towards the green eyes staring at her intently. Part of her feels guilty at the thought of inadvertently using a patient to help with another one, but it's for a good cause. It's not like she will ask the Sakura to do anything... She'll just have to do what's she's been doing all along.

"Excuse me, I was just thinking about the situation. If you feel confident about it, then I suppose there's no reason for either of you to be moved. If the Joker _really_ wants to do something, he will. Previous records are proof of that. The guards are aware of everything and will make sure you're safe. Just be careful. Try not to provoke him..." Even if she hopes to see how they interact, the doctor doesn't want anything to happen to her patient. Sakura's doing so well and from what the guards say, she hasn't been rattled by the clown so far. That's a good sign.

"Don't worry. That's not an issue..." Harleen's eyes brightened while a smirk tugged at her lips. The blonde can't help feeling the strange sensation in her gut. Not knowing where to place it, she twirled the pen between her fingers. Why does the pinkette want to stay in a cell right across from someone like the Joker? Does she find all this entertaining, just like she let on? Most patients beg to be moved right away. If not for the relentless taunting, then it's his manic laughter throughout the night that startles most of the patients awake.

_'I have a bad feeling about all of this... What should I do? Maybe I'll see how things play out for now. With the way things are going, Sakura will be transferred in about a month anyway...'_

"Oh!_ Yes_... I want to talk to you about something important. I don't know if you remember, but in a month, it'll be time for the yearly evaluation again. From the looks of it, I believe you'll finally be approved for a transferred to a better facility that can help you transition back into society. The place I have in mind will assist with that. It won't be a maximum-security hospital like this one, but that will make it easier on you." Blue eyes observe the woman's reactions, waiting for a response. The pinkette just stares at her, not seemingly surprised by the news.

_Whatsoever._

If anything, she thought it might bring a smile or some excitement, but there's… _nothing_. Disappointed with the lack of response, the doctor coughs against her hand, shifting on the seat.

"We usually send patients there that we believe are on the path to rehabilitation. Little by little, you'll have the opportunity to get a feel for having a different life. They are very hands-on and help with everything you'll need for when you're released. I think this will be the best approach. You've been here for quite some time. I don't want to be like the other doctors and just sign a paper and leave you at the door, without knowing what to do. That's the reason many so many end up right back here... I want to do this _right_. All of my patients are very important to me and I want to see them succeed."

Harleen bites the inside of her lip, waiting for the woman staring at her to say _something_. This will be the third time Sakura's been up for an evaluation. The other attempts weren't successful from incidents occurring right around the same time... Is that a coincidence? Shaking the thoughts from her head, she doesn't want to think about it. This time will be different. After all, she's the doctor assigned to this case and actual progress has been made, unlike before.

"That's _so_ kind of you, doctor. _Thank you_." The smile on the pinkette's face puts her at ease. She has to believe in this woman or everything will be hopeless. All a person needs is to be shown that someone genuinely cares and is willing to put in the effort.

"Of course! Like I said before, I'm here to help you."

A knock on the door signals the end of their short session. The first one is always thirty minutes, while the second later in the week will be an hour. That's how Dr. Arkham has it set-up for some strange reason. She thinks both should be an hour-long, but then again... she's not the one that calls the shots.

Harold opens the door, walking in and glancing up at the camera. Harleen gasps, almost forgetting about the recording.

"Tuesday, November 21st 20XX. Time 11:30 AM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel ending session with Patient 0802, Sakura Haruno."

Pressing the button on the recorder, the blonde sighs as the chair is pushed back and her patient stands up. Two guards take her by the arms, leading the pinkette towards the door.

"Have a nice day, Dr. Quinzel. _Please_… Don't forget about the gloves." Sakura smiles wearily before being escorted out.

"You too. Don't worry, I won't." She rarely forgets anything that her patients ask for or says in general. Her whole life is invested in this job.

The dark-haired guard glances back at the door, making sure the others are waiting in the hall, before turning back towards her. "Doctor... You _can't_ be serious about letting them stay across from each other, are you?"

"How did you hear that? No one can hear anything from outside the door. What, did you go to the control room, Harold?" The expression on his face tells Harleen everything she needs to know. He's supposed to be waiting outside the door, not invading her patient's privacy unnecessarily by listening in through the security cameras. It's disgustingly unprofessional on his part, the same way he treats the pinkette in general.

"Listen, I'm doing what I think is best for my patients as their doctor. You heard what Sakura said, right? If one patient can rattle her, then maybe she's not ready." The doctor studies him closely, already expecting the kind of reaction he'll have about this. From hearing the conversations between the guards during breaks and in the hallways, it's very apparent this man has an intense loathing towards the Joker, even _before_ the police truck arrived from Blackgate.

"Harleen! This is _The Joker_ we're talking about! He needs to be moved to J-block, where he can be left to rot away from everyone else. All he does is taunt and jeer at every person he comes in contact with, trying to get a rise out of any little thing that _crazy_ mind comes up with. She's _your_ patient, shouldn't you be trying to her?" He tries to keep his voice down, not wanting the three people in the hallway to hear him. With each sentence his tone rises a little more, biting out from the rage the clown existence elicits.

Sighing, Harleen runs a hand through her hair, trying to keep calm. This man isn't going to question how much her patients mean to her. He doesn't have a single clue about what he's saying and is only concerned with his own interests, not the patients.

"You know I don't approve of people throwing the word _'crazy' _around, especially in this facility. These are _my_ patients we're talking about. I'll do what I think is best for them, so don't interfere with your _'honorable intentions'._ You never seemed to care before when similar instances happened in your block." His dark eyes widen at her words, unable to argue and she damn well knows it. This is personal and has nothing to do with safety concerns.

"This is the last time we're having this conversation unless something changes. If I were you, I'd tone it down a notch, before I recommend to Jeremiah to have you moved to a different block yourself. I don't think he would appreciate his guards giving favorable treatment to certain patients and condemning others..." Harleen smiles inwardly from seeing the reaction on his face. She's not a fool and hears about what's been happening in D-block.

"..._You_... should be careful what you say, Doctor. You might cause a misunderstanding..." Harold's sneers, wagging his finger near her face. The underlying meaning of his words isn't lost on her. He's telling her to watch herself and keep her nose out of their business or there may be consequences.

Harleen scowls at his back when he turns away to walk towards the door. While they can have a cordial conversation as coworkers in the same building, she doesn't appreciate how the guards treat the patients. Some do their job properly, but others like to bend the rules. It's not fair to anyone... Multiple times she's talked with Jeremiah, who always says he'll do something about it. Nothing's changed. Every day, she sees the _same_ people still doing the _same_ rotten things.

What's it going to take for this place to turn around?

* * *

"_Harold_..." The soft voice next to him breaks the angry stream of thoughts running through his mind. That annoying blonde bimbo is always interfering. She needs to learn her place and stay out of the guard's affairs.

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay to head to the shower room now, since we're already out? I know we usually go in a few hours, but it's right around the corner... I don't want to make you guys go out of your way more than you already have to." The pinkette glances up at him curiously, making him fidget when they pass the glass doors of B-block.

"S-_Sure_. That's not a problem. I don't mind taking you later, but if that's what you want..." Most of the time, the guards have to drag the inmates to the shower room. It's not like the situation's enjoyable for them either, but they can't leave these animals stinking in their cells… _Especially,_ when Dr. Arkham is around.

Some of the inmates are completely unruly and lash out just from mentioning going to the shower room. Those monsters have to be restrained and wheeled in, then one of the nurses will _attempt_ to try washing them... It's a terrible experience for everyone involved.

Thankfully, Sakura's a different story... She happily goes there every day, usually around the same time. It's a relief not having to beat or medicate someone just to clean them up.

Looking down at the small woman humming a tune while the chain rattles between her cuffs, it's hard for him to believe that someone like this is here at all. Is she _truly _insane? It doesn't seem possible. How can someone so soft and pleasant be capable of doing what they say she did? It just doesn't add up. The only thing he can think of is that perhaps she's taking the rap for another person's crime... That's probably the case. _It has to be..._

After working here for the past year, he thought he's seen every kind of monstrosity Gotham has to offer. Murders, rapists, _complete psycho's_... A man that performs lobotomies and put faces on people, a thieving painter who can only see in blinding colors, an assassin that's _never_ missed a single shot, a mafia boss found working with one of the asylum's _own_ doctors to spread a fear-inducing gas throughout the city... Everything a person can think of in their worst nightmares is currently under the roof of this building.

Then he sees this pink-haired woman, who doesn't seem like she would hurt a fly...

There are other women here, but they don't _look_ dangerous. The staff has to keep any form of plant life _whatsoever_ away from the patient known as 'Poison Ivy'. A tiny leaf stuck to someone's boot coming in from break can easily be turned into a deadly weapon from her strange powers. She's rumored to be part-plant from an experiment gone wrong and can control them freely. _It's frightening_... Others are just as violent as men. The staff has to be extra careful around them. Two guards were killed from allowing themselves to seduced by some of the _femmes fatales_ that are randomly admitted.

Sakura is different, he can just _feel_ it. She's a sweet woman that usually minds her own business and spends her time reading. Since he started working here, he's never seen her give the guards a hassle or any trouble at all. That's one of the reasons he doesn't have an issue bringing her books every so often, or letting a few things slide. Sometimes he'll slip her a coffee or extra food after making sure the camera's in a different direction. They move positions every so often on a timer or depending on what the person in the control room's doing.

There's no harm in it... She rarely asks for anything and he's more than happy to give the pinkette what she wants if she requests something. Most of the patients mutter or scream during the night shifts, driving him nuts during his rounds throughout the block. Somehow, she always sleeps peacefully. He doesn't know how it's even possible, especially with that _raucous_ laughter across the hall…

Thinking about that clown makes his blood _boil_. He loathes that creature with every ounce of his being. Just looking at his scarred-up face fills him with disgust. Every time he says _anything_, Harold feels the urge to rip open the glass door and beat him to death... but that's exactly what he's hoping for. That maniac wants them to do act out to give him a chance to pull some shit. He won't fall for it, no matter how much that clown gets under his skin...

"Here we are..." Opening the door to the shower room, he motions for the pinkette to go in with him and another guard following close behind. The third man has to stay in the hall to keep watch, that's how they always do it. No one knows when an inmate might get loose and try to ambush someone in the shower for trivial bullshit the staff will never understand... _Or_ the one getting the shower tries to make a lame attempt to escape.

There are large metal containers along the wall where towels, loose sponges, and orange jumpsuits of all sizes are kept. The others are filled with single-use small bottles of shampoo and body wash. The patients aren't allowed bars of soap anymore... Not after a guard had one shoved down his throat and choked to death on it.

The tops and bottoms of the bottles are too wide to fit in a person's mouth and the plastic too flimsy to beat anyone with. Perfect for where they are. Usually, a nurse will dry off a patient that's chained down so they won't try to use the towel to strangle them, but this is fine.

Taking a key from the set on his belt, Harold unlocks the pinkette's cuffs, who smiles in appreciation. Her gloved hands gingerly graze the skin along her wrists, sighing as she moved them around experimentally.

"Do they hurt?" Brown eyes roam over the pink marks on her pale skin, feeling guilty that they had to put them on in the first place.

"It's okay. They're just a little uncomfortable after a while..." The pinkette moves her fingers around and rubs the gloves together. "And irritate my palms."

"Well, Dr. Quinzel should be able to do something about that. Doesn't seem right to have them on _all_ the time. You can't even itch your hands like that." He jingles the keys on the chain, opening the metal cabinet while the woman throws him a sideways glance.

"Oh, you heard _that_... Yeah, these are itchy. I _hate_ them." Green eyes narrow in on the shiny material wrapped around her hands, glaring at them. Harold watches her in interest, absentmindedly grabbing items from the shelves. He already knows where they are without looking from doing this so many times.

This is one of the very few occasions Sakura's expressed such distaste for anything, let alone saying she hates them. For him, this is _interesting_. Usually, she either chirps happily or laughs while they converse, both he thoroughly enjoys. Smart _and_ pretty, two things he likes in a woman.

"I'll do what I can to put in a good word for you. Hopefully, Dr. Arkham will give his approval." Closing the metal doors and locking them, the dark-haired guard takes the items in his arms and places the towel and clothing on a chair off to the side. It's typically used for patients to sit while a nurse bathes them.

"I'd appreciate that very much! You're such a good man, Harold. I'll miss you if they do end up transferring me..." The pinkette smiles sadly, watching him putting the bottles on the tiled floor. He quickly turns away, not wanting her to see his flushed face. Whenever she says stuff like that, he just can't help it... Even if Sakura's a patient here, she's _still_ a beautiful woman. It's flattering to hear praises spill from those pink lips…

He sighs from thinking about what she said... Listening in to the session from the control room, he heard about the assessment coming up. Part of him feels guilty for hoping she stays, it's selfish to want something like that. Honestly, she's one of the only good parts of the day working here... All the other patients are either dreary or vicious and everything in between.

"Yeah, but if that's what's necessary, then it has to be done. It's better than spending the rest of your life locked up here. A lot of people come in and never leave. At least this way you have a chance of having a normal life, right?" Harold hopes that might make her feel better about the situation. Honestly, he doesn't know her real opinion on the matter. She's very good at being vague or dancing around certain subjects.

"That's true. It's been a long time since I've gone outside. I'll probably burn the moment I step out into the sun, haha.." Her laugh puts him at ease, at least knowing she's not too upset about it. He can't a chuckle at her reference to how pale she is.

_'I wonder when's the last time she's seen the sun? Or the moon? It's strange to think about it. A small thing that seems so trivial, that we take for granted, is something another person yearns for. I walk outside every day and never even consider what it would be like to have it ripped away…'_

"Okay, go ahead. Just let us know when you're done." Stepping away from the tiled floor, Harold turns around when he hears the familiar sound from the zipper on the jumpsuit being pulled and clothes rustling.

This is always an uncomfortable part of this job... They have to stay in the room whenever an inmate showers or has to use the bathroom, just in case. Too many incidents have happened, leaving them with really no other choice. Every rule ends up coming into effect because of something that's happened before... It's annoying, yet necessary.

Hearing the shower turning on, Harold shifts from one foot to the other, waiting patiently. She never takes long anyway and he isn't going to deny someone he _doesn't_ detest wanting to be clean. Another thing that can easily be taken for granted…

"Jerry! What the _hell_ are you doing?!" Glancing towards the tan-skinned man that came with them, Harold's startled noticing he didn't turn away.

The guard looks at him in surprise, seemingly puzzled at the reaction. "What do you mean? We're supposed to make sure the patient doesn't do anything... Isn't that why we're here?"

Grabbing the front of his uniform, Harold yanks him close. "Listen, newbie! Some patients, _yes_. Don't you have any manners, for Christ's sake?! She's a _woman_, give her some privacy..."

Glancing back over to the shower, Jerry's brows furrow in confusion. Without thinking, Harold turns his head in the same direction. It's not the first time he's seen her without clothes on and probably not the last. It's still an awkward experience for both sides, anyway. The hospital doesn't have any female guards left after the last one resigned a few weeks ago.

Most women don't seem to want to work in a place like this and Dr. Arkham doesn't have faith that they'll be able to physically handle the inmates when things get out of control. Even when a nurse comes in to shower a patient, the guards still have to be there. The asylum doesn't always follow state and federal laws either, not that anyone cares.

Sakura frowns at the two men, quickly covering her chest with her gloved hands. She tries turning away to hide, narrowing her eyes at them.

"I said _stop looking_! Don't you listen, man?!" Grabbing the front of Jerry's uniform, he shakes him hard to get the point across. Harold _forces _him to look away by dragging him towards the metal cabinets to give the pinkette some privacy. It just doesn't feel _right_. Isn't it bad enough to be stuck in a cell with clear glass and needing a man to take her to go to the bathroom? The least she can have is a shower without someone _staring_ at her.

"I didn't-... _Sorry_... I was just doing what they told me to. Stop making it seem like I'm a pervert or something. What's with you?"

Sighing, Harold put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "Listen, my friend… You're new, so you don't know how things go around here yet. Yes, there are rules the higher-up's hand down, but _we_ are the ones who _run_ this place. You'll see... Derek and I will show you how things are done. Whatever you do, don't listen to fuck-face John, or you'll end up getting hurt by one of the patients..."

* * *

Walking by the glass doors along the walls, Harold holds onto the pinkette's arm, leading her back to D-block. Derek and Jerry are right on their heels with the latter peering into the rooms as they pass.

Glancing over when they turned down the last hall, Sakura stares straight-ahead, ignoring the damp hair falling loosely around her shoulders. The light, pink shade is such an unusual color, but it compliments her pale skin tone.

"Here you go." Pulling the keycard out from his breast pocket, he swipes it over the control panel that works the door. It quickly slides open with that obnoxious beeping sound he's more than tired of hearing. The pinkette steps inside and turns around, holding out her wrists. It only takes a few seconds to take off the handcuffs, before putting them back onto his belt loop.

"Thank you." Sakura stands back as he presses the controls, locking her back up into the cell for the rest of the day. It's a shame that such a pretty woman has to be confined like this.

With the door secure, Derek and Jerry take off in opposite directions, scanning the cells to relieve another pair of guards to take their break. Harold isn't paying them any mind. Looking solemnly at the pinkette that's watching the other men leave, she glances back at him, shifting her jaw and chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"...I'll miss you when you get transferred..." His words are quiet, not wanting the others to hear him.

A soft smile plays on her lips, causing his chest to feel heavier than it did in the control room. "I will too. You were the best part of my stay."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Reaching into the inside of his uniform, he pulls out something she previously asked him for. "_Here.._."

Harold rolls up the newspaper and slides it through one of the holes in the glass, knowing the camera's already looking away for the next few minutes. "There's something else in there for you too." Leaning in, he whispers the last part, so no one but her can hear it.

"_Ah_... Thank you. You're such a sweetheart!" She grins, quickly slipping the small box from between the pages into a side pocket of the orange jumpsuit, being as discreet as possible in their situation.

"So... That's how it is?" Harold spins on his heel at the sudden laughter from across the hall that grates his nerves to no end. The clown's laying across the bed with his head propped up against the wall. His mangled mouth twists into a grotesque smile that pulls at his scars.

_'Disgusting...'_

"That's what you're up to, _dollface_? Is that why your little, ah, _boy-toy_ was so quick to listen to you the other day?" Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Joker shifts his weight to stand himself up. For having his upper-body restrained, he's able to get his balance and maneuver around quickly. Dark eyes flicker from Harold to the pinkette, and back again.

"Well, Harold?... Who do I gotta blow to get this jacket off? _Hmm?_ Seems to be working out just _fine_ for the princess here. Things changed since the last time I was here." His lips curl up into a sneer, glaring at Sakura with distaste. The insinuation and disrespect hits a nerve with the guard. She's not that kind of woman and he's the _last_ person to judge anyone else.

"Shut the fuck up, clown! I'd let you blow yourself up before taking that thing off of you. Sit your ass down and keep that ripped-up mouth of yours _closed_." This is infuriating. Who does that piece of shit think he is? As far as anyone can see, all he did is hand her a newspaper. What's wrong with that?

Sakura glances over at the man across from her cell, arching a brow. A crooked grin cracks her normally peaceful expression as she snorts. "Just to crawl out of _that? _I didn't realize how _cheap_ the 'Clown Prince of Crime' is! I wonder what you'd be willing to do for an early release, haha!" She starts laughing hysterically, startling Harold that's watching the two. Usually, it's a soft chuckle, but she sure lets it out at the clown's expense.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll _show_ you exactly how cheap I really am." Pushing his forehead up against the glass, he scowls at the woman in the other cell.

Pulling out his baton, Harold smacks it against the glass as a warning. The Joker's dark eyes trail towards him with a malicious grin spreading across his face. A chill runs down the guard's spine at the way the clown's looking at him. He can almost _see_ the violence simmering behind those pitch-black orbs, threatening to burst out at the seams.

It doesn't sit well with him, but if he opens the cell to beat him, it'll give the Joker an opportunity to do something terrible. Whatever's going on in that twisted mind is something he doesn't want to find out. Nothing ever good comes from tangling with this man when there isn't back-up around.

Backing away from the cell, Harold quickly turns away to walk down the hall. Right now, he can use a cigarette...

* * *

"So, dollface... Ya think I'm cheap?" Joker glares at the woman as soon as her little _boy-toy_ runs off. He can see it in the man's eyes. That look of unadulterated _fear_. After seeing it so many times, he can sense it before even glancing at his face. That sensation always feeds the frenzy he revels in, the same way blood does to a shark. Whether it's their eyes or body language that rats them out, fear is his favorite emotion on a person.

This woman... _Hoo boy_, the things he would do to see those green eyes have that look in them... There's a difference between being scared and _truly_ terrified. The latter will bring him such satisfaction. Just the thought of seeing that pious little witch that way is enough to make his hands tremble.

The pinkette flops down on the bed, looking at the front of the newspaper. A few moments go by while she reads the cover without even bothering to look up at him.

"Ya know... It's rude to, ah, _ignore_ someone when they're talkin' to ya. Didn't they ever tell ya that in boarding school, princess?" Something about her gnaws at him and he doesn't understand _why_. She's just a slip of a woman that doesn't say much, but when she does…

He's eviscerated people for much less. Two things he doesn't stand for are insubordination and disrespect, which his men know very well. This witch swims from one end to the other, soaking up both in a deadly mix that sends him _reeling_.

"I'm surprised the _'Clown Prince of Cheap'_ knows what they teach in boarding school. Sorry, I must have skipped that lesson." She looks up from the paper with a grin on her face, _mocking_ him.

Joker seethes on the inside and out, running his tongue over the scar below his lip. She's far _too_ ballsy for a woman of her size, feeling overly confident from the straight jacket pinning his arms down and the glass keeping him contained. That won't be a problem soon, he's already working on that part...

"Even cheap people know things, darlin'. Ya don't have to be rich to learn a thing or two." Dark eyes glance at the paper when she flips it around, quickly reading the headlines. "_Hah!_ Would ya look at that! The Bat's still missing after Dent's _mur-der_..." On the cover is an image of the broken Bat-signal at the MCU, alongside a picture of the late District Attorney.

Turning the paper around, the pinkette studies the cover, before peering over the top at him. "From how happy you look, I'm sure you had some underhanded business in that, no?" Her green eyes narrow in on him, causing his grin to widen.

That little game went exactly as expected with all the pawns playing right into his gloved hands. It's a time he'll relish over for the rest of his rotten life. Unfortunately for the pieces, the fun isn't _quite_ over yet. The Bat will regret not letting him hit the ground that night.

"_Me?_ " Joker craned his neck back like he's offended that she even suggested such an appalling accusation. "I was dancing with Gotham's best at the time. Even someone like me can't be in two places at once." He says in feigned innocence, cocking his head to the side. His lips curl up, watching the pinkette gazing at him. If that little witch knew half of the things he's done, the blood would drain right out of that porcelain face. Chuckling to himself, he wonders if there's a shade paler than white because_ that's_ how she'll look.

"_Tch_, you're the worst." Sakura clicks her tongue, opening the pages and tearing her eyes away from him. For some reason, that dismissiveness pisses him off more than when she's getting a kick out of him.

Joker can feel the anger coiling up inside him, slithering up his spine and ready to lash out. This woman thinks she's better than him, that they're not even in the same league. One thing he can't stand is a haughty person that looks down on him like this. He knows that expression and has cut it off any scum daring to throw it his way.

"Ya know... There's no difference between us. Not you, me, or Batman... We're not all that different." He eyes her carefully, watching for a reaction. This is the most she's spoken to him in the last week since he was transferred from Blackgate. The more she talks, the more he can use to crush her with.

"All it takes is one bad day. That's it! One. _Bad._ Day... Everyone that's in here has 'em. That day where _everything_ changes and nothing can go back to what it used to be." Pursing his lips, Joker cracks his neck, attempting to release some of the tension building up. It's useless. Seeing those green eyes burning a hole into him, he tries to swallow down the heat licking at his skin, just beneath the surface.

_'Heh... The witch is interested. Now that she's talking, let's see what I can get this broad to say.'_

"What's so different between me and everyone else? _Hmm?_ Lemme tell ya. _Nothing_. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just _one_ bad _day_. Isn't that what happened to you? _I can tell_... You had a bad day and everything changed, didn't it?"

Gently placing the paper down on the bed, she folds her hands together, staring at him. The smile on her face causes his jaw to clench. He _hates_ that look, it's always followed by something snarky.

"Just _one bad day?_ Is that all it took for you?" With a malicious grin, she reaches up towards her mouth, rubbing her fingers along the sides of it. "What a _pathetic_ man."

Smacking his forehead against the glass, the clown's lips pull back, baring his teeth. A feral growl resonates through his chest from the rage threatening to tear him apart. If it wasn't for the straight jacket keeping him contained, he might explode into pieces and shoot around the small cell, like shrapnel. She's mocking his _scars_, using her fingers to trace the jagged marks around his mouth.

_'Bitch... You little fucking bitch!'_

Picking up the newspaper, she starts browsing through the articles again, pretending not to see him foaming at the mouth across the hall. To have the _nerve_ to insult the Joker and then ignore him is utterly outrageous. Perhaps she really is insane.

"Don't worry. They look good on you." The pinkette's voice is soft, but he definitely hears it. His ears work extremely well, despite all the damage he's probably done from all the gunshots and explosions throughout the years.

_'What?'_

"I'm sorry? What was that?" Shaking his head, Joker knows what he heard, but still second-guesses himself. Is this chick serious? Did she realize she screwed up and is trying to backtrack to save her ass?

"I know you heard me the first time. I'm not repeating myself." Sakura looks up at him again, folding the paper over and putting it down on the bed. Shifting, she stretches her legs and twists her torso, groaning from the kinks working themselves out of her back.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, doll." A grin spreads across his face as he watches her stretch. "Is this how you sweetened up those guards? Working that little body out to get them to be your servants?"

"No idea what you're talking about." Pulling her arm behind her head and tugging on it, the clown can hear it crack from where he's sitting.

"Don't play dumb. You have that tall, dumb one wrapped around your pretty little fingers. Is it shower room? When you go for those '_sessions'_?" Part of him is curious, while the other wants to hit a nerve on her. She's already hit plenty of his, most of them he won't let her see, just brushing them off with a laugh.

Sakura's face scrunches up in annoyance and he feels a small sense of victory. At least this is a different expression he's uncovering from her.

"It's none of your business... I don't have to mess around with anyone to get what I want. I can get things done with just a smile, unlike someone that's gonna have to blow one of the guards just to move their arms."

Joker clenching his fists beneath the straight jacket, his nails digging into the fabric of his jumpsuit while she laughs. It's mind-blowing how he can let this insignificant ant crawl under his skin. If they were on the streets, this would've played out very differently. There wouldn't even be a ghost of a smile on her face then.

"One of these days... I _will _kill you. That's a _promise_, doll. I'm a man of my word..." Flicking his tongue out, he traces the forked scar on his bottom lip. What a foolish woman. Doesn't she realize she's already hammered the last nail into her own coffin by now?

The thought of murdering her has been on his mind from the first time she laughed at him. Countless hours have been spent planning and imagining the act. No one has ever made him feel such a rush of anger or his blood boil the way she does and it's _unforgivable_.

To some, killing such a small, delicate-looking woman may seem pathetic and beneath him. He doesn't give a shit. This witch had him at the first chime she let out and solidified it with mocking his scars. He'll relish the instant her heart finally stops. Destroying her just might be the most beautiful masterpiece he'll ever create.

It _will_ be.

Thinking about it filled him with chaotic energy ready to flow over the sides. He can already see those bright green orbs start to dull in his mind, becoming cloudy and lifeless. It brings a sense of comfort knowing that she doesn't have much longer to tease him. His eyes darken, watching the smile fade from her face.

"_Not if I kill you first_.."


	4. Selfish

"Wednesday, November 22nd 20XX. Time is 12:00 PM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel beginning session with Patient 0801... The _Joker_..."

Taking her hand away from the recorder, Harleen can't help feeling anxious about this session. The one that's been making her lose sleep for the past few nights, tossing and turning in anticipation. Now that it's here, the jittery sensation plaguing her is only getting worse.

Sitting across the table is the Joker himself, barefaced and bound to the chair with chains. It's strange to see him this way after all the footage and pictures she's seen of him, the majority of them showing messy smears of white, red, and black. A few shots taken from Blackgate and in the Arkham archives have shown him without the greasepaint, but it's a very different experience seeing it in person.

The man's looking around the room and at the camera with a bored expression, randomly licking his lips and along the cracked skin of his scars. Although the dark, jagged marks are infamous for frightening people, Harleen didn't share the same sentiments.

_'It must have been such a terrible, painful experience.'_

The feelings of sympathy she tried to bury are crawling back up to the surface, but they need to be stopped in their tracks. This isn't just any patient... It's _The Joker_. A master manipulator who brought Gotham to its knees. If she underestimates him or makes one wrong move, it'll be over for her and any chance of recovery for him.

The scars don't have her on edge, it's the pressure coming from him, creeping its way in her gut. Despite being chained to a chair and slouching, it feels like his presence is looming over her, like an all-encompassing shadow. The way his dark eyes barely glanced over her feels similar to how a kid might look at an ant on the sidewalk before they crush it with no concern for its well-being_. Whatsoever_. She didn't have to work around criminals for years to know this man is _dangerous_. Anyone with a shred of instinct can feel it right away, but he's a patient now. That sense of dread needs to be cast aside to get things done, so _she _can be the _one_ to rehabilitate him.

"Hmm..." Shifting through the papers on the table in front of her, Harleen tries to push down the anxiety gnawing at her insides. How many times has she read over this file in the last week alone? Knows them like the back of her hand? At this rate, the patient will be able to sense her feelings and ruin everything. She has to bite the bullet and look him in the eyes with confidence.

Glancing up, the clown sat across from her with a snarky grin on his face, eyeing her with those dark pits that would intimidate anyone.

_'Dammit! He can already tell... Get it together already! This is your one big shot to change your career. If you can do this successfully, everything will change!'_

"Okay... Before we start, I'd like to ask you something." Seeing the man's brow raise, she bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that _at least_ he's listening.

"Shoot, Doc." His expression falls back into the bored one he wore only minutes ago, dragging his gaze up towards the camera again. It's like he already knows the standard procedure and couldn't care less, finding more interest in an inanimate object than the human being attempting to talk to him.

"The Joker... I know that's not your real name and I don't want to refer to you by a patient number. Is there something else I can call you? Maybe a first name? I'd rather not use a criminal alias during these sessions. I know what the guards call you and everyone else for that matter, but at the end of the day... You're still a person and I want to treat you as one..." The doctor held in a breath, waiting for some kind of reaction to show he's still paying attention.

When his eyes finally trail back to her, they almost steal the air from her lungs. He's staring, not saying a word, but she can feel him burning a hole through her. It feels like he's looking _through_ her, not _at_ her like he can see something she's completely oblivious to. As if he found what he was searching for, he barks out a laugh that makes her jump in the seat, rattling the chains keeping him restrained.

"Been there, heard it a million times before." The Joker rolls his head along his broad shoulders, drifting his gaze up towards the ceiling. There's a strange tension in his muscles, she can see it from across the table. Is he agitated already? "_Criminal alias?_ That's my name, sweetheart."

"Surely you had a different name at some point? What did your parents or friends call you growing up?" The clown's head fell forward at the last question, his eyes turning cold and dark. There's something in them that makes her skin crawl, but she tries to quell it before it plays out on her features. Giving him ammo to use against her is the last thing she needs.

"Joker_. I'm a Joker_. That's what I've _always_ been called, Doc. Don't ya have something more interesting to say? You're not the first or the last to see if they can squeeze a name outta me." His lips curl up as he jerks his head to the side, loudly cracking his neck. Harleen can't help wincing at the sight, resisting the urge to touch her own. "If ya wanna call me something else _so_ badly, come up with one on your own."

Harleen's blue eyes trailed over his appearance while he stared at the papers in front of her. It's easier to do once he's not baring down on her with those obsidian stones. If he wasn't preoccupied, she probably wouldn't have the nerve to try it.

This man… He looks _filthy_. The straight jacket wrapped around him seems too tight, even for this situation. The orange jumpsuit he's wearing is dingy and soiled, she can see old sweat stains among other things in different spots. Worst of all... The blonde can smell him, even from across the table. She isn't sure if it's from the filthy clothing or his body, but it's _definitely_ there. The faded green hair is greasy and matted, hanging down his neck and sticking to the sides of his face. He can't even move it out of the way himself, not without jerking his head around.

"Joker... Can I call you _J_, instead?" From the look on his face, it doesn't seem like he gives a crap _what_ she calls him. There's no doubt he's heard worse. "When's the last time the guards gave you a new jumpsuit? Or take you to the shower room?"

The clown scoffed, narrowing his eyes on her. She suddenly felt nervous again, shuffling her feet beneath the table. Grabbing the pen from the surface, she pinched it between her fingers, almost like she can transfer some of the emotions out of her and into the object.

"Whatcha tryna say, Doc? _Hmm?_ Spit it out." There's a bite to his words, almost like he's offended at what she's indirectly implying.

"I'm just wondering... Are the guards neglecting what they're..._supposed_ to be doing for you?" Harleen doesn't have to heart to tell him that he reeks or looks _absolutely_ filthy. She wants to keep this as polite as possible, maybe even build a sense of trust between patient and doctor. If the staff is mistreating the people in the asylum, they ultimately end up shutting down and no progress can be made.

"Why of course! They do their job _so_ well. They always make sure not to hit me in the head _first_ and make sure I'm up before every-_one_ else. The boys like to leave the food right outside the glass to make it easier for me to grab. _Best_ room service in the city! _HAHAHA!_" He threw his head back, falling into a fit of hysterics.

Harleen raised a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the noise of outrage trying to come out. She is _absolutely_ horrified. It's well-known how much the guards can't stand the Joker, but to take their anger out on a patient like _this_? The asylum is really going down the shitter.

"How long has that straight jacket been on?" She was almost afraid to ask, worried about what the answer will be. Her sense of indignation overrode the fear eating away at her. This is disgusting… To treat a human being like this is horrendous. The man looks like he's spent the last few years in a POW camp in a third-world country.

"Since Blackgate." He says it nonchalantly as if it's not a big deal. How often does he run into this kind of treatment? Other patients complain about much less within the first few minutes of their initial session, but it didn't seem like he was even going to mention it. Was he just going to suck it up if she didn't say anything?

"Y-You're being serious? I'll have to speak to the guards about what's been going on. We can't make progress if you're in this kind of state. On behalf of Arkham, I'm sorry...about _all_ of this."

"It's okay, Doc. I'm _sure_ you'll be able to do something about it..." A grin spread across his face, dropping his chin down to motion towards the straightjacket.

"…That's the thing. A guard is claiming that you made a threat against another patient. If the staff believes you're a threat to yourself or anyone else, there's no other choice, but to keep it on... Look, I'll do what I can, but I _need_ you to work _with_ me to help you. Death threats won't do you any good here."

"No idea what you're talkin' about. All I do is sit in that cell, mutter _sweet_-nothings to myself. It gets, ah, _real_ lonely in there. If someone took what I said the wrong way, it can't be helped!" The corner of his mouth quirks up like it's attached to a string that someone's tugging on. He shrugs his shoulders and smacks his lips, shifting against the chair. His eyes look heavy with dark shadows around them. She's not sure if they naturally appear that way, or if the greasepaint stained the only delicate patch of skin on his body.

Harleen watches him carefully, knowing this man is infamous for his lies and manipulation. He probably did threaten Sakura, but unless she watches the CCTV tapes, there's no way of knowing for sure. It goes along with the pattern of his past behaviors towards other patients.

If he's going to make any progress, they need to start _somewhere_. After this session is over, the guards will need a heavy dose of reality if things are ever going to change in Arkham. Abusing patients, no matter what they've done, is illegal and unethical. There's no reason a patient should be left in their cell for over a week, without a shower _or_ change of clothing.

_'Do they even let him use the bathroom? Or make him sit in it? From the smell, I wouldn't be surprised…'_

"Ya know, Doc..." Harleen's eyebrows shot up at the way his voice deepened, surprised he's offering more to the conversation, considering how dismissive he was when they started. "I don't wanna be here. I _really_ don't, but there's no choice now. At the rate things are going, I'll end up dying in a place like this... I don't like that idea. If I ever want to be free again, I'm smart enough to understand that." Leaning closer to the table, the chains confining him to the chair stopped him from going any further.

The doctor can feel her heart racing, not knowing what he's trying to do, even while being held back like this. His words... They sound genuine enough, despite the fact that he's a pathological liar.

_'He's trying to manipulate you, Harleen.' _

And yet... _he isn't wrong_. The Joker's mind is clear enough to see his own fate, unlike many of the other patients she speaks with throughout the week. Most of the doctors here say the same things consistently... That a person like _him_ should rot away in the asylum, until the day he dies.

"I know I've been a pretty _bad_ boy, but even I value my life. Talking with _you_... Seeing the way you hold yourself and how carefully you choose your words, it says a lot about the kind of person you are. I hear what the others say. If anyone can help me—_I mean really help me_— it's _you_." Sitting back in the chair, he shifts his head to the side, staring _at_ her. The messy locks that aren't glued to his face fall from the subtle movement, grazing the filthy orange material on his shoulder.

"I can feel it… We're not that different, you and I. Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day to change the seats we're sitting in. I'm sure you understand what I'm saying. Right, Doc?" The clown's tongue snakes out, prodding the edge of his scar. He seems inclined to agitate the longer one of the set that reaches to his cheek, curving at the end.

_'Is that…part of that one bad day he's had?'_

"You're someone that _truly _cares for her patients and it's clear from your actions. Mad Hatter attempted to strangle you and instead of sending him to J-block, ya fought to keep him in D. No other doctor gives second chances like _that_." Giving a toothy grin, he stares at her intently, making her shift on the chair.

"How do you know about that?" The doctor's voice is low, saying it more to herself than him. There's no way he should know about something like that, especially when it only occurred two hours ago. Have the patients been discussing the happenings in the asylum from their cells? The guards wouldn't allow that if they were walking by. They don't like them talking _period_, let alone to each other. That can be dangerous…

"I see _and_ hear everything, Doc. Ya hearing gets _real_ good in a place like this, especially when it gets _dark_. That's when things go bump in the night!" The table shakes when he lunges forward, smacking his body up against the edge with his eyes wide like saucers. Harleen squeaks, almost jumping out of the chair from the sudden movement. She grabs at her chest, trying to stifle the panic that's washing away the ease the last few minutes brought her. It was startling like someone just ran up from behind and dumped an entire bucket of ice water down her back.

"I-I see..." Is he _trying_ to scare her _or_ reach out to get someone to understand? Sucking in a deep breath, she does her best to regain her composure. Too much has already been given away at this point, she can't let him see more. Once he gets in her head, this will all be over before it even starts.

The thought of him knowing things he shouldn't is unsettling, but it's something he's known for. Finding out information and using it against someone is a skill he's _very_ proficient at. One of many that prove how resourceful this man is.

"My point is... I think you're someone who can help me, unlike the other doctors here. This _might_ just work out. I feel like I can come to trust you... Maybe even tell ya my _secrets_." Leaning back into the chair, his jaw shifts as he looks at her from beneath those heavy-lids. There's a strange look in them, one the doctor can't place.

_'He's messing with me... No one's ever gotten anything concrete from this man. So far, he's talked more in this first session alone, than with any of the other doctors in the facility. It doesn't matter. As long as he keeps going, maybe I can get somewhere with him.'_

"If you truly mean that, then I'll do what I can to help... However, you have to be cooperative. That means no threatening other patients or stepping a toe out of line. For this work, you need to show the staff that you're trying. Bad behavior means _more_ restrictions, so work with me on this and I'll try to make life more comfortable in the meantime. Do you understand?" A toothy grin spread across his ruined lips at her words, appearing to like where this is going. The sight sent shivers down her spine with an odd sensation pooling in her gut.

"Scouts honor! I'd pinky promise, but..." Motioning with his chin towards the restraints, he shrugged sheepishly. "Wouldn't be able to, even if I wanted. Don't worry, Doc. I'll be a _good_ boy, just for _you_." It's almost playful and teasing, but she knows better. The moment he starts acting like he's getting it together is when he finally strikes, going right for the jugular. "Just imagine it… If ya really can help me... Everyone will know you as the doctor that was able to cure that 'infamous pain in the ass', also known as 'the Joker'. _I can see it now_... Your name in bright lights! HAHAHA!"

* * *

Storming through the door to the courtyard, the doctor stalked down the broken path, heated and ready to claw someone's eyes out. She's fuming, completely outraged, and running out of the patience she always prided herself on. Seeing the two figures leaning up against the brick wall and chatting with the other guards only made her blood boil.

How can these men be so relaxed and in high-spirits despite knowing they're making others suffer? Do they have any semblance of a conscious? They're sitting out here smoking and enjoying the fresh air, while someone's been sitting in their own filth for _over_ a week.

_'Unbelievable…'_

"Harold! _Derek!_" The group stop in mid-conversation and quickly turn towards the woman's voice yelling at them.

Stomping up to two in question, a few of the others back away, not wanting to get entangled in whatever is about to go down. The blonde's seething, wanting nothing more than to smack the condescending looks right off their faces.

Harleen knows what kind of people they are. These two feel empowered from having so much control over another's life and wellbeing, which has clearly gone to their heads. Nothing more than lazy, disrespectful apes that care nothing for the patients who live here.

"What do you two think you're doing, huh?!" The vague question she asks seems to confuse the entirety of the group, especially the assholes she's glaring at. Derek shoots Harold a look, wondering why there's a need to inquire about something so obvious.

_'Little slime… Can't answer anything on your own?' _

"Taking a break... What else do you think, _Doctor?_" Harold scrunches up his face and narrows his eyes at her. He knows she's here to throw a fit, it's obvious in her tone and posture. After their discussion yesterday, there's been a tension in the air between them and it seems to follow out here as well.

"I'm talking about _The Joker_! Why the hell hasn't he been taken to the shower room in _over a week_?!" It doesn't matter if these men are physically stronger and she's a one-woman show in the courtyard in front of this group. This is her workplace, just like theirs, and she isn't going to sit by while disgusting acts take place to her patients.

The dark-haired guard chuckles, grazing his fingers across the five o'clock shadow on his chin. There's a sense of pride in his stance as he straightens his back. It's like he's relishing in the fact that he's making the Joker's life miserable.

"He gets what he deserves. _Nothing._ What, did the little clown go crying to his psychiatrist about the mean ol' guards not letting him wash his ass?" The resounding laughter from the men standing around only sets the doctor off. "That _thing_ is just a beast behind a glass. A wild animal at the zoo that needs to be tamed."

"Are you serious?! That _thing_ is a human being! I'm going to Dr. Arkham about this! I swear if he's not cleaned up before my shift is over-"

Taking a few measured steps towards her, the guard's eyes flashed with an unspoken threat. He's trying to intimidate her by using their size difference to his advantage. "Or...you'll _what?_ I'd be careful of what you say next, Dr. Quinzel... Doctors come and go, you know."

"As do guards!" She spat. Harleen can see the muscles in his face tense as he clenches his jaw. He's becoming hostile, undoubtedly restraining himself with all the witnesses around. While he might resort to some form of violence to solve most problems, that doesn't mean the others will be okay with him beating a small woman in the courtyard. There are no security cameras in this area, but without certainty, there isn't going to be retaliation, he won't act.

"Knock it off!" A deep voice made them all look away, turning towards the man stalking in their direction. All except for Harold, who's still bearing down on her with an icy glare.

"John… Stay out of it." Derek complains wearily, already knowing how this will play with the guard approaching them. He's heard more than enough arguments between him and his friend and doesn't have the time or energy to deal with another one.

"No, I won't. This is absolutely unacceptable and you all know it. It's you guys that are acting like a bunch of animals in a zoo. We're not here to get kicks out of the patients or take advantage of them. This is a _job_ and the two of you need to knock this shit off. Have some human decency!" Harleen's eyes widen when John walks straight up to Harold, looking him square in the face.

_'John...' _

He's one of the few guards here that actually takes his job seriously. Not once has she seen or heard of him doing anything out of line. He's an excellent staff member and a decent man. If only there were more employees like him in Arkham…

"I _really_ can't stand you, asshole." Infuriated with the interference for the umpteenth time from the same person, Harold eyes the blonde-haired man. His hands pulse at his sides like he's debating to take a swing or not. "Didn't that clown kill your friend? Why are you taking up for him?"

"It's because I'm a human being. What is leaving him in his own filth going to do? Or beating him with a nightstick? Will that bring anyone back? Change anything? _No_. We need to show him we're better than that. Men like him _want_ retaliation... They thrive off of it. Sometimes kindness and mercy can get under a person's skin far deeper than a bruise ever could, especially when they're not expecting it."

Harleen's can't help staring at him in awe. There's something endearing about his views and words. He's so wise for such a young age... It's an admirable way to live, especially in this world. He's kind and smart, something seriously lacking in the halls of Arkham.

"I'd follow the Doctor's orders if you guys want to keep your jobs. Jeremiah doesn't like to hear about patients being mistreated. If word gets out about what's happening inside these walls, the whole asylum will become even more of a laughing stock than it already is... We have a bad reputation thanks to staff like you guys." John spun on his heel, taking a few steps forward, before stopping mid-stride. Glancing back at the men, a small smile played on his lips.

"Say, guys… I know this _hasn't_ crossed your minds, but did you ever consider what will happen if the Joker manages to escape? He's done it dozens of times already, even from the most secure facilities. Hell, he blew up the MCU with it full of the city's best right there _and_ escaped... What do you think will happen this time around? That man… He's known to repay people's _kindness_ tenfold."

Harleen froze on the spot, watching the blood drain from Harold's face. He's realizing that he didn't even imagine such a scenario before. How can that not even cross his mind? Is he that dim or just confident that he's safe with the clown behind bulletproof glass?

With a smirk, John turns towards the group still hanging by the wall, observing from a safe distance. He points at two of the men smoking, snapping his fingers. "You guys... Please follow Dr. Quinzel's orders and make sure they're done according to protocol. We're _not_ in a zoo and I expect the patients not to look or smell like they're in one."

Walking away, he ignores the men grumbling under their breaths, not caring if they aren't happy about the job they're being assigned to. It's smart, he chose guards that he has superiority over that aren't known for the same shenanigans as Harold and Derek. A wise choice the doctor notices right away. He's clever _and_ thoughtful about his actions. There are six others in the group he could have chosen from, but he made his decision quickly based on what needs to be done the most efficiently, with the least amount of issues.

"_Thank you_."

John stops next to Harleen, giving her a small nod in response. She can't resist a smile and the sense of satisfaction filling her from seeing those asshole's being chewed out. There's an understanding between them and a desire to do what's right, an uncommon trait among the staff. He walks off down the path and she watches his retreating back, a warm sense of comfort with the knowledge that there's someone else who feels the same way. She's not alone in this fight and it only strengthens her resolve.

Although she wanted to be the one to force the guard's hand, this is okay too. As long as there are results, it shouldn't matter. Her pride is a little hurt that a man felt the need to stand up for her, but she still appreciates it. This is a good step in the right direction.

How is she going to make any progress with her patients if they aren't being treated as people with basic human rights? Is it asking _too_ much just to make sure someone was bathed and has clean clothes?

_No, it isn't._

Either way, Dr. Arkham is going to be paid a visit about what's been going on.

* * *

Joker can't wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face, even _if_ he wants to.

The guards walk him down the hall, muttering obscenities under their breaths, but he doesn't give two-shits what they say. He's heard it all before, many times over. It's always the same boring names since these dull people lack any creativity.

_Freak_. Monster. _Murderer_. Psycho. _Terrorist_. Criminal. _Scarface_.

_'Go ahead... It doesn't bother me at all, so keep it going. You'll be choking on your own blood one of these days.'_

They're on the way back from the shower room... It seems the little blonde is useful after all. Not long after their session, two guards that usually don't work in D-block came to get him. It isn't too surprising, especially after observing the kind of person the doctor is.

She's a woman working hard to prove her worth to others _and_ the asylum. Joker knows she's trying to bridge the gap between them and reach out. This isn't the first time a psychiatrist has tried and it won't be the last. In the field of psychology, he's like a rare gem that people whisper tales about, going on adventures in hopes of becoming part of the legend themselves. If someone can put even a crack in the rocky surface surrounding him, that'll be a first. The doctor who's able to finally make a breakthrough and rehabilitate him will be a celebrity among their peers.

"_Tch_." As if he'll let someone use him like that... Even if she has good intentions, there are still some selfish priorities behind it. A foolish woman like Harleen will _never_ be able to understand or change him, but it'll be fun to see her try. When she finally realizes how futile all her efforts are down the road, he'll enjoy watching her tumbling down into the dark pit he's left all the others in.

"HAHAHA!" Just thinking about it, he can't hold back the laughter. She's so fragile, it'll destroy her and all the hopes she keeps dreaming of. Sometimes, people need to learn the hard way how useless it all is.

The Joker's a _fan_ of the hard way. Anything easy isn't worth his time or effort, not unless it's funny. He can _always_ use a good laugh, especially at the expense of others.

"Knock it off, _freak_!" The dark-skinned man gripping his arm tugs on the side of the straight jacket, grimacing from the raucous noise agitating his ears.

"So _sorry_ sir! The voice in my head just told me a funny joke and I couldn't help myself_. Wanna hear it?" _It's so easy to make these guards uncomfortable. That in itself is hilarious. They're definitely a different stock compared to the days of Amadeus. "It's a real knee-slapper!"

"Just shut it already..." He quickly glances away, unable to hold the clown's dark gaze. Not only that, but the smile on his ruined mouth is unnerving…

"_Heh_!" Not even the guards are going to ruin the good mood he's in right now. Things are going almost exactly as he predicted... That doctor's going to be an extra _easy_ bonus to his plans. The blonde's so desperate to prove herself and gain his trust, she'll do everything possible to ensure it happens. He can already tell she might come in handy for the little things he'll need.

_How foolish... _

What's the point of working so hard when no one will recognize her efforts anyway? So caught up in the system and doing things she doesn't want to..._and for what?_ Does that moron think gaining anyone's approval will bring her happiness? She should be more concerned for herself and less about other's expectations.

_'Stupid woman...'_

Maybe, if given a push in the _right_ direction...

Blondie's already proven she can be useful. It feels good to finally get a shower and that disgusting jumpsuit off. Joker's not crazy about personal hygiene and doesn't mind his_ own_ stink. Hell, he's been covered in worse. Other people's blood and guts, gun powder, shoot, _greasepaint_, gasoline... These hands alone have been in some of the most _disgusting_ things... but sitting in someone's dirty, sweaty, soiled jumpsuit for over a week is where he draws the goddamn line.

Dropping his chin down against his chest, he eyes the thick material keeping him restraining, pinning his arms together. Whoever decided to come up with such an idea truly has a beautiful mind, but right now… he'd love nothing more than to shove a stick up their ass.

It's a waste even thinking about it and he knows it's not going to happen, but it'd be _nice_ if the guards took this damn thing off when he's back in his cell. Well, at least they put a new one on. Now his back and underarms aren't itching something fierce...

_'Nothing's worse than an itch you can't scratch…'_

**_"A guard is claiming that you made a threat against another patient."_**

His lips curl up into a sneer remembering the doctor's words. These confines will be off soon if he plays his cards right and he'll finally be able to scratch that _little_ itch he hasn't been able to reach so far... It's something else to look forward to aside from the reason he organized his own transfer to Arkham in the first place.

_That pink-haired witch… _

No one gets under his skin the way she does. Her words and actions slide right under the layers, like a sharp scalpel, driving him completely _mad_. Every time he looks over towards that woman's cell, his hands tremble from the desire to wrap them around that thin neck and ring it.

Everyone in the asylum usually seems horrified when he glances in their direction, let alone talks to them. The blondie was panicking and shaking like a leaf just sitting across the table from him, despite him being chained down with a straight jacket on. She's smart enough to know the reality of her situation and what can happen.

This woman is clearly too stupid to know any better. If the pinkette has any sense of self-preservation, she wouldn't talk the way she does... or laugh _so carelessly_.

_'Unless... Does she want me to kill her?' _

Perhaps there's a reason for her recklessness? Or that cocky fucking attitude? Is she tired of being locked-up and wants to use him as a way out? Even if it's in a body bag?

_'No... That can't be it...'_

**_"Not if I kill you first…"_**

Smirking, he'll gladly take-on this little challenge. No reason not to have a little fun in here. Let's see _who_ can get _who_ first...

Striding down the rows of cells, mutterings and strange noises filtered out into the hall. This is how it's always been, even when he was locked-up here before…numerous times.

"_Scarecrow_... _Scarecrow_... _Scarecrow_..." Peeking into one of the cells, an older man is sitting on the cold floor, staring off into the distance. His head's hanging low with his chin pressed down against the orange fabric the clown's already sick of looking at.

_'Good ol' Falcone still at it. I wonder if he knows Crane's is right down the hall?'_

"Hey, Falcone... What's that behind you?" The older man's eyes widen and he shrieks, bolting up off the floor. Spinning around to look behind him, he reacts like there actually _is_ something there. Maybe there is. Who knows in this shithole what's real or not anymore?

Grabbing at his own hair, Falcone looks around wildly, realizing he's encased in the small space by the glass door with whatever's in there with him. The blood drains from his tired face that twists with horror. There's nowhere to run and no one's coming to save him. He rakes his fingers over his withered skin, becoming overwhelmed and starting to hyperventilate.

"No! No! Scarecrow! _Scarecrow_! No! Get-Get me outta here!" The old mafia boss is a complete and utter mess_. It's fucking great. _This man had all of Gotham in his pockets for decades, calling the shots with the judicial system and police force under his thumb. A big-time mobster that forced the entire city into submission from fear of retaliation. He had it all-money, power, women, drugs_, everything_.

Now, that same man is dropping to his knees in a trembling heap, the same way he's made countless others do in the past. Joker can't help finding the irony _hilarious_. When Falcone's wide eyes meet his, the clown's gives him the widest, most sinister grin he can muster and relishes how the man _screams_. He keeps at it, dragging himself across the floor, until finding safety under the bed. It finally turns into pathetic whimpers, before the chant begins again.

"_Scarecrow_… Scarecrow!... _No_... Scarecrow..."

"WOOHAHAHA!" Throwing his head back, Joker howls with laughter from watching the old man becoming hysterical under the bed. The guards are furious from witnessing the scene unfold, but it's not like they couldn't have stopped it.

"You fucking asshole! Do you have any idea how long it's gonna take us to get him from under there?!" The dark-skinned guard whirls around, yelling in his face. Do they think he cares? This is all a game, nothing more. The other one is just standing there, gritting his teeth. Right now, these two are responsible for him and that includes anything he does while in their incompetent hands. They'll have to be the ones to drag ol' Falcone from beneath the bed and explain what happened. It's not like they can lie about it either. Not with the CCTV cameras watching their every move.

"That sucks for _you_. HAHAHA!" It doesn't take much to push these guys to their boiling point. Neither does it for the guard to pull out his nightstick and smack it against the clown's back. A futile effort to get him to stop laughing. All it does is increase it seven-fold.

The guard stops in mid-swing when he notices the crooked smile on the Joker's face like he's _enjoying_ it. He arches a brow in confusion towards his partner, who just shrugs. What do you do with a maniac that revels in the sensation of pain when that is their only big threat to keep him in-line?

To the clown's disappointment, the weapon is withdrawn, placed back where it came from, but not where it _should_ go-at least in the Joker's opinion… If it was up to him, it'd go straight up the guard's ass for calling him a _freak_. Another schmuck to add to the list that's getting longer with each passing day.

_'The other guards would have at least given me a good beating. How boring...'_

"Fucking weirdo. I think he likes that shit. Let's just get him back in his cell…" They grab both sides of the straight-jacket and try tugging him away, but the Joker doesn't move until he's _ready_ to.

Falcone peeks an eye out from beneath the bed at the strange voices outside of his cell, looking through the spaces between his fingers. When he's met with a nasty smile and a wink, it only takes a second before he's right back under, trying to disappear.

This is what he enjoys about this place. It's a front-row seat to one of the best shit shows in the city. All the whack jobs in Gotham are here for him to toy with and see how far he can push their buttons.

Satisfied, the clown allows himself to be hauled away by the guards, spitting and cursing at him. The patients aren't the only ones he likes to mess with. By far, the staff is much easier to rile up. It's fun to wind them up and watch them spin out of control.

Walking past a few more cells, the Joker's eyes lit-up at the sight of _another_ familiar face behind the pane of glass. A man with dark hair and pale skin that's sitting on his bed, looking through a bunch of papers of who-knows-what.

"_Psst_. Crane! Ol' buddy, ol' pal!" The former doctor looks up towards the hallway, recognizing the obnoxious voice calling out to him. His sunken face and piercing blue eyes show no amount of surprise when he notices the straightjacket keeping the clown restrained.

"_Ahh_... The narcissist with an identity crisis... Did the prescription I gave you help at all?" He scoffs at the man who was previously a highly-acclaimed doctor at this asylum... That enjoyed experimenting on his patients.

"_Please_... I used to huff that shit for fun. Never mind that, did you hear your _biggest_ fan cheering you on down the hallway? He's going _crazy_ from wanting to see you. HAHAHA!" He can't help falling into another fit of laughter from his own joke and the grimace forming on Crane's face.

_'Squirrely, little weasel.'_

Over a year ago, Crane was still working in the asylum as the Chief Administrator and was brought to see Falcone. The mob boss was waiting for indictment on several charges and tried blackmailing the good doctor for his hand in some of those crimes. All Falcone got was a face full of fear gas. Word gets around fast in the underground, especially when it involves a bunch of egotistical braggarts.

That's Crane's _thing_. He likes to put a burlap sack over his head that protects him from his own "medicine'. It's clearly handmade by the doctor himself from the shitty stitch job keeping the material together. Not that _he_ has room to talk about crappy stitches… At least Crane can get a new sack—_heh_—and try again. The Joker… Well, he's screwed in that department. Can't exactly get a new face, but then again… this _is_ Gotham.

The doctor's 'fear gas' makes the patient hallucinate and see him as a 'terrifying' scarecrow. It usually ends with them going insane or crazier than they already are.

_Good stuff._

"Knock it off already! First time outta the cell and look at what he's already doing!" The shorter guard gives him a hard shove, while Crane shakes his head, going back to mulling over his papers.

_'Does that moron still think he's a doctor here or somethin'? Is a staff member getting him to do paperwork for them in exchange for favors? Little bastard…'_

They can't ruin his good mood right now. No one can... Now, if he can just get this damn jacket off, it'll be close to being a decent day.

Going further down the hall towards his 'cave', Joker's brow furrows seeing one of the usual guards standing in front of the cell across from his. The man second from the top on the to-do list for Arkham...

_'Fucking Harold.' _

He stops for a second, trying to see what's going on before the guards escorting him push forward, _almost_ making him stumble.

"Hurry it up, we have other shit to do." Yanking him along, the two men suddenly seem to be in a rush when they pull out the key card to unlocked his cell. The tall one shoves him in quickly, hurrying to close the glass door on the control panel. They must've been scared to put him in, not knowing if he'll try something.

"AhHahHAHA!" The look of relief spreading over their features just confirms it all. They're _glad_ he's finally behind the bulletproof glass, thinking that will keep them safe...

Those fools are only safe because he _lets_ them be...

The Joker knows how to play his cards right. It's always been one of his favorite games. If he's going to get this jacket off, he'll have to be a _good_ _boy_ for a little while longer, just until that blonde can get his arms free. Not that he needs her to do it. There isn't anything he actually _has_ to do. Sometimes, it's fun to play things the 'right' way, instead of cheating all the time. That way, when he shows his hand… those who believed they were winning the entire time are completely shattered.

_'At least a day, maybe two... Tops...'_

Straightening his back, Joker walks towards the glass door to see what's going on across the hall. Call it curiosity or information gathering, he really doesn't care. Dark eyes narrow suspiciously and his lips curl, before dropping into a frown. It's annoying to be so close, yet unable to make out much with that buffoon in the way. He hunches forward, trying to peer over without being _too_ obvious about it, but he's failing _miserably_.

Sakura's standing at the door and when the buffoon shifts at the _right_ angle, the clown can see that her gloved hands are through the holes in the glass. There's something about her face that's irritating him. It's more bright and cheerful than usual like _she_ just finally had a shower after a long week of sitting in filth.

_'Ahh…' _

Harold has his hands around her left one, messing around with some kind of small contraption that the Joker's never seen—_that's a first_—between his fingers. The strange object is quickly shoved into his pocket, before reaching up and peeling the shiny material back from her dainty little wrist and over her hand. It's obvious what's going on.

That wicked woman is finally having her gloves taken off. The guard makes quick work of it and moves on to the right one. When it slips from her fingertips and is free, he quickly slides the pair into the same pocket as the toy he used a minute ago.

Sakura's features light up enough that the witch can probably power the entire asylum through a power outage. She stares down at her hands through the holes, wiggling her fingers around and _grinning_. No. It's not the one she wears when taking to her boy-toys. This is different… There's a syrupy sweetness to it that can rot his teeth even worse just from looking at it.

A smile… that goes ear to fucking ear.

Irritation claws at his insides seeing how happy she is all over some damn gloves. He'll take that any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Try wearing a dirty straightjacket 24/7... then they can talk.

_'What is she so damn happy about?!' _

Joker can feel the great mood he was in slowly ebbing away from watching the two across the hall. The dark-haired guard looks to be in a similar mood, grinning while he watches the small woman rolling her wrists around.

"See? I told you I'd put in a good word. Dr. Quinzel… had a part in it too." Joker wants to spit just from seeing this going on. Harold's flush, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He looks like a schoolboy trying to talk to a college chick that's entirely out of his league

_'Kiss ass.'_

Sakura reaches forward through the holes in the glass, snatching up the buffoon's hands in her own. The clown freezes on the spot, blinking a few times to make sure he's actually seeing this shit. It's a funny thing how the eyes can play tricks on people—_sometimes not. _Part of him wants to see what happens, call it the voyeur in him.

Those gloves were on for a reason. The asylum wouldn't have gone out of their way to put them on her for _no reason_. It's the reason they did it in the first place that intrigues him. Are the staff afraid of what she can do with them? They've been on for a long time from what he's gathered through pits and pieces of conversation between the witch and her toys.

_'What's she gonna do? Can she electrocute someone? Is her touch poisonous? Perhaps fire comes out of them? Or bone? C'mon, what can you do?!'_

Joker watches intently, eager to see what's going to happen to the guard. From what he understands, this man has only been here for a year and Sakura hasn't been able to do _whatever_ she does, because the gloves are inhibiting her from directly touching anyone.

There's no doubt in his mind that this poisonous woman has only been using this duff to get what she wants_... It's ingenious_. Using her feminine wiles to lure in unsuspecting fools to do her bidding. She's 'pretty' enough to pull it off with those soft features and unique look, but he knows it's her brain that makes her dangerous. The way Sakura's able to wrap people around her fingers with just a smile and few words... she's _by_ _far_ the worst villain in this block.

_'Evil seductress... The kind ya watch out for...'_

Is the witch going to kill the guard or maim him, now that she has what she wants? It should be Joker who gets the fun of ending his life but depending on how she does the deed, perhaps he can overlook this slight for now. Harold's been on the list for over a week and it's about time for some retribution. He can't wait to find out how this plays out. A shiver runs down his spine in anticipation...

The guard still, his eyes widening as the blood drains from his face. He's afraid, the clown can smell the stink of it from across the hall. Does he know what the pinkette can do and that's why he's scared?

Joker sways on his feet, refusing to blink so nothing is missed. It could happen in a flash and just one bat of an eye might rob him of a week's worth of hysterics. His jaw shifts as he moves closer, pressing the tip of his nose against the glass. This is _exciting_, probably the most action he's seen since they dragged him through the asylum doors. He can feel his heart beating faster, waiting to see if the fool's head is going to explode or if he'll drop dead on the floor.

"Thank you _so_ much, Harold. You really are the best! I had complete faith in you..." The pinkette smiles wide and unabashed, caressing her thumbs over the back of the guard's hands. He jerks his head away, turning red in the face and trying to avoid her bright gaze. A small nervous laugh passes through his lips, letting the fear of what she _might've_ done melt away from his shoulders as they drop an inch.

"Don't worry about it. I'll do anything I can for you. Besides… You're leaving in a few weeks anyway. Why keep them on if it's not necessary?"

Joker bangs his head against the glass, gnashing his teeth furiously_. That's it?!_ That is fucking it?! She just grabbed him to hold his hand?! Where's the blood? Electricity? The flames? Anything! All _that_ just to hold his goddamn hand?

'Un-fucking-believable! Damn little slut!'

Fiery rage claws at his guts and the vein in his forehead throbs, feeling a barrage of various emotions bombarding his brain. If his eyes widen any further, they'll pop right out of their sockets from the pressure.

Joker not sure which emotions are hurling themselves at him, but can still feel it nonetheless. He recognizes unbridled anger, resentment, disgust… There's a few the clown can't place, but he's too livid to care about any of that. Part of him is pissed like he's been tricked somehow and he's not sure if it's at himself or the wicked witch of D-block.

_'She's leaving in a few weeks?!' _

Hah. That's not going to happen. She'll be dead _long_ before that. He's a man of his word and has already told the pinkette quite a few times that he _will_ kill her. Why start this little relationship off with being a liar?

Feeling the murderous glare coming across the hall, Sakura shifted over to look at him when he starts pacing along the length of the glass… Like a rabid dog in a cage, just _itching_ to get out.

A wide grin spreads across her pink lips as she narrows her green eyes on him. Those annoying emeralds are mocking him like they always do. He's stolen plenty of precious jewels before and those are next, then she can take a good look at herself from a different angle...

"You bitch..." Slamming his head up against the glass, the guard jumps when he heard the cold, murderous voice coming from the other cell. Harold turns around to start his up his favorite pastime of screwing with the clown, but Sakura tugs on his hand, trying to stop him.

"Don't worry about that clown. He's playing a game... Charades? Oh! I think he wants us to guess what he is!" The woman giggles girlishly with a knowing smirk playing along her lips.

Joker can feel his heart hammering against his chest, the blood rushing towards his head. Seeing her smile, while she holds the guard's hand so firmly in her own... _That laugh_... The mirth in those green eyes, mocking him. Never before did he want to kill someone so badly, that it made his entire body tremble... Not even his father was able to bring that out in him.

Joker might not understand or be the best when it comes to identifying his own emotions. They're useless for the most part and bring nothing to the table that might serve him well. Logic and ingenuity are what he values most. Sometimes, to his own surprise, feelings _can_ be helpful once in a blue moon when needing the push to get something done.

He's realized a few things about himself in this last week, after having nothing to do, other than mull stuff over when no one's around to beat him. It was during this reflection time, that it became painfully clear how he truly feels about this woman.

The clown couldn't help laughing to himself when everything became so obvious. Why didn't he see it before? For the first time, he felt a genuine emotion that burns with a passion he's never experienced to this degree. It's enthralling and all-consuming, almost enough to bring a man like him to his knees. A moment he won't forget for the rest of his life, that made the dingy lights of the asylum suddenly seem brighter. He'd swear the sun could've poked through a thunderstorm and the heavens shined down on him in that instant. That's how enlightening this truly was when it finally hit him.

_He hates this fucking bitch._

"Hey! Knock it off or I'll have one of the doctors come down to sedate you!" Harold pulls away from the woman, stepping closer to his cell. If only he took a few more steps and his hands were free... The guard's face would be smashed into a bloody mess against the glass after he grabbed onto his uniform.

Turning his murderous glare towards Harold, the buffoon's eyes widen when he realized how dangerous the situation is... straightjacket or not. He shifts his glance between the pinkette and the clown, and coughs awkwardly, taking a few measured steps back. His little buddies aren't here to help in case anything happens and he knows it.

"I'll see you later, Sakura..." The dark-haired man rushes off, completely out of sight within a few moments. It doesn't seem to matter anyway, neither inmate is paying him any mind.

Joker presses himself up against the glass, almost like it there's enough pressure, he might be able to break through. The vessels in his dark eyes are visible from the pressure in his sockets from his anger and staring the pinkette down. His pupils are becoming completely dilated as if the rage is giving him a high that can't be concealed.

Smirking, the pinkette crosses her arms over her chest, humming a little tune. She's watching him just as intently, cocking her head to the side and letting the long strands of pink hair spill along the front of her orange jumpsuit.

"What's wrong? You look a little _troubled_ there..." Raising a thin brow, she pushes her bottom lip out with a feigned innocent expression.

**_"I. HATE. YOU."_** The gravelly words are harsh and deep, even for him. They can't express how he truly feels, but it's the closest phrase he knows of that comes close.

Sakura narrows her eyes, shifting on her feet while she scrutinizes him. Despite seeming relaxed and casual, there's confidence in her stance and the way she keeps her head held high. No fear, no anxiety, or worry. She can look him in the eyes without wavering and it's _unnerving_. Everyone-his men, the guards, doctors, other people, even cops-can barely make contact, before quickly glancing away.

"Feeling's mutual..."

Scoffing, the clown slams his head against the glass, hoping to at least make her jump back in surprise. She doesn't move a muscle or even flinches, standing her ground.

_'Feeling's mutual? She hates ME? I haven't even done anything yet... Just you fucking wait… I'll give you a real reason to hate me.'_

Sighing, the pinkette turns away to saunter towards the bed. Without taking her gaze off him, she gently sits down on the edge and crosses her legs. He can tell she's mulling over something by the look in her eyes. Is she thinking of an insult to throw at him? Something that will completely set him off? What to get the guards to do to him next? Whatever's going on in that little pink head isn't good.

There's nothing _good_ about her.

"I don't know why you hate me. I haven't done anything to you. You're the one who's always staring at me, practically foaming at the mouth... Hahaha..."

Joker's dark eyes widen as she chuckled, not liking how she worded it. Not. One. _Bit._

"You think I _enjoy_ having to look at your face every day? It makes me wanna smash it right into the cement!" Staring at her? Foaming at the mouth? She acts like he's a dog salivating over a juicy bone. How full of herself can _one_ woman really be? This bitch has no idea…

"_Really?_ For someone who can't stand looking at me, you do it quite often." A pale hand reaches up to graze her pink lips as she laughs. "If I couldn't stand someone's face, I'd look at anything _but_ them. And yet... You just can't take your eyes off me, can you? Stupid, ignorant man..."

Grinding his teeth, he thinks they might crack under the pressure. Who does Sakura think she is saying that to _him_? Doesn't she realize this is all a game that he's going to win? And the prize is her corpse.

"You're so damn full of yourself... It's disgusting. Wrapping those men around your little fingers and getting them to do your bidding. I'll cut 'em off and see what you can do then!" He snarls, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth. It's a wonder why he even entertains this little charade between them for this long, but it's about to come to an end. This woman… He's not sure if she brings the worst or devious best out of him.

"Aww, come on! I just finally got them to take those gloves off after all this time!" The pinkette mocks, holding her hands up for him to see. Her playful tone grates on his nerves, making it clear that she's not taking his threats seriously.

"Yeah… Ya got 'em off pretty quick, probably the same way ya did with Harold. Guess it's hard jerking the guards off with your hands covered in metal, isn't it?" Now it's his turn to feel smug. He has his suspicions and they're usually on point. That would explain the favoritism and how she's able to get things done.

Glancing at her hands, she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. "I'm sure I could've managed it. Do you want to find out? Well, I guess it'd be hard to get into my cell for a hand-job with your arms all tied up like that. Hahaha! You know, my hands are _quite_ soft..."

Joker's face screws up as he takes a step away from the glass. He's not sure if he heard her right, despite knowing his hearing's above average. It's just like when she claimed that his scars look good on him.

_'What did she just say?' _

He looks at the smirking woman in confusion, shocked at the words that came out of her mouth.

_'Did Sakura just say what I think she said? What the hell's wrong with her?'_

Instead of messing with the pinkette's head and tearing her down, it feels like at every turn, she's switching it up on him. One minute they challenge each other to see who can kill the other first, then say they hate each other, just for her to make a suggestion about jerking him off just to mess with his head even more. What a wicked, _wicked_ woman.

**_"You know, my hands are quite soft..."_**

He can't contain his rage, desperately wanting to smash his fist against the glass. All he can do it slightly move them in the thick material. Every chance she gets, she tosses something out to throw him through a loop.

Laughing and mocking him with that feigned sweet smile, poking fun at his scars, calling him handsome, then saying she wants to kill him. No wonder Sakura's in here, 'cause she's bat-shit crazy to be saying _those_ kinds of things to _him_. No one's ever had the guts to play hardball like this with the Joker and she'll learn what happens to people who try.

"You're walking on a _dangerous_ path, dollface." A malicious grin pulls at his scars as he tries to keep his body from shaking with excitement.

"I always have, _handsome_."


	5. Challenge

"Dr. Arkham… Please, just reconsider this. I completely understand what Aaron's saying, but I'm the one assigned to this case and _truly_ believe that we can get through to him. You've listened to the recordings from our session, right?"

Harleen's pleading with the head of the asylum, Jeremiah Arkham. A meeting was on the schedule for this morning to discuss a few of her patients, which is typically held every two weeks... Unless there's an urgent matter that needs to be addressed. Each of the doctors has these meetings on regular intervals at the behest of the man in charge, who wants updates on certain cases, usually the more severe ones.

"I'm sorry to say this Harleen, but The Joker is just manipulating you... Trying to get your trust, so that he can get more access to move around. That's when he'll make his move. I've been here longer than any guard employed under this roof and have seen firsthand what he's capable of." An older African-American man stands by the desk in the middle of the room, where they've all gathered around. Aaron Cash is the Head of Security, and a veteran when it comes to handling the criminally insane.

Lifting his arm to prove his point, the blonde averts her eyes, already knowing what he's going to say. "Look at _this_. All I'm left with is a hook instead of a hand just because I happened to be in the _wrong_ block at the _wrong_ time. If you underestimate or sympathize with these people, you'll lose _everything_ you hold dear."

Cash is a very strong man, physically and mentally. None of the other guards have the experience or knowledge he possesses, which is why he was put in charge of them all.

Long before Harleen even obtained a degree in psychology, Cash has a guard working at the asylum. One day, he happened upon an unfortunate incident involving Killer Croc, who was being transferred to the facility. The tranquilizers they used on Croc had worn off and a rampage ensued. Trying to save a doctor that'd been knocked over, the woman's terrified screams distracted the guard and the oversized reptilian criminal ripped into his left arm...

"This... This isn't even it, doctor. Anne was killed by an inmate here too. You can't let your guard down, for even _a second_. I know you've been here for a while and have seen for yourself what these inmates are like. You're a nice woman, Harleen, and you have faith that these patients can be cured, but don't let your goals blind your reason."

Anne Carver had been a psychiatrist, just like her, that ended up getting killed by one of her own patients. A woman that goes by 'Jane Doe', who's envious of others and believes she's an empty shell herself. She covets their lives, wanting to become them and doing so by murdering and impersonating the victims... Jane assumed the doctor's identity for months, without any of her coworkers at the asylum ever realizing it, until Batman intervened.

Cash was in love with the psychiatrist before her untimely death, giving him more than enough reason not to trust the bonds between doctor and patient. It's understandable, he's seen more than anyone else can imagine. The violence, betrayal, how uncontrollable some people can truly be… However, that's not everyone and he can't blame others for what's happened in the past. All patients shouldn't be labeled in the same category. Every case is different.

Harleen clicks her tongue, not liking how this meeting is already progressing. As Head of Security, Cash's opinion is always taken very seriously. She just wants them to _at least_ consider taking the straight jacket off The Joker for a little while, even if it's temporary. He's been stuck in that for almost a week and a half now. It doesn't seem right to have to wear it day _and_ night.

For the last two days, the blonde imagined how it must feel to wear something like that 24/7. If she's going to build trust and find a common ground with the clown, it's important to try understanding how he thinks and feels. At home, she used a thick sweater and tried wrapping it around herself-_with the assistance of a very confused friend_-so that she can get some insight into how his days are spent. After a few hours of being unable to move her arms, she became fed up and got rid of it right away. Just that long was too much... She can't imagine being left that way for a week and a half. It would drive _anyone_ insane...

"Aaron... Our_ 'patients'_ are not inmates. Despite this asylum's different functions, this is still a hospital meant to facilitate the recovery and rehabilitation of the people who are admitted here. I absolutely understand your concerns, but I can also see Harleen's point... The goal of Arkham Asylum is to help these people with their illnesses and hopefully reintroduce them back into society. Not everyone will be able to do that, but there's still a chance." Jeremiah pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking down at the papers on the desk in front of him.

"Perhaps... We can find a happy medium for both sides?" A woman standing next to the head of the asylum chimes in. She glances at each person and turns her head, making her hair fall down the front of her white coat. It's long and thick, with ribbons twisting around and separating the chestnut-colored locks. Harleen can't help staring at the odd hairstyle every time she sees her, finding it interesting.

Alyce Sinner is Dr. Arkham's protege. A brilliant psychologist in her own right, she has a great amount of experience in the field and the asylum. The brunette's older than Harleen and has been here for years, working her way up to being the head's right-hand woman. Every time these meetings are scheduled, she's always there to give her professional opinion and is highly respected by the staff.

"A_ happy medium?_ There is _no_ happy medium when it comes to The Joker, Alyce! If we give him any leeway, we'll regret it like every other time in the past. I don't want to see any of my guards getting hurt or killed just to make that _man_ more comfortable!" Cash was getting louder with agitation, refusing to allow someone basic human rights that are by law. If he won't abide by the rules, why should the patients follow them either?

"From my perspective, it's _your_ guards who are doing all the hurting, Cash! My patient has been beaten unnecessarily, refused a shower, was left in a _filthy_ jumpsuit and is being taunted _and_ harassed by _your_ men! Their behavior is absolutely disgusting and I don't know why they're still here. How am I supposed to make any progress with my patient when your men are abusing him on a daily basis?!" Harleen can feel her blood pressure going through the roof at the nerve of this man. Those goons are his responsibility and even if he's an excellent guard, the men under his command are a different story.

"There aren't many people willing to work here with the risk that comes with it. Guards dying or being maimed isn't that out of the ordinary. No amount of health benefits or hazard pay can make up for that! I do the best with what I have to work with!" Shit is still shit, no matter what he tries to cover it up with. The blonde shakes her head, knowing that Cash doesn't want to hear it. He's just making up excuses for his guard's bad behavior at this point.

"Ha… Haha... _Hahaha!_" The two arguing turn towards Jeremiah when he suddenly starts laughing, making them freeze on the spot.

"…Doctor?" Harleen's confused at his unusual behavior, not understanding what he's finding amusing about this situation whatsoever. This entire meeting is turning into a shit-show and it's frustrating.

"Harleen, Aaron... Listen, we need to come to an agreement. Can I make a suggestion? How about while the patient's in his cell, the straight jacket can be removed. Other than that, it stays on. To his sessions, the bathroom and shower room, and any time he needs to be escorted. How does that sound? We can do this _very_ temporarily and observe the situation, until the next meeting." Alyce added in an even tone, shifting her hair and ribbons away from her face as she spoke.

Nodding slowly, the blonde smiled inwardly to herself. This is a step in the right direction, for sure. It'll also meet Aaron halfway and show Joker that she's trying to look out for his best interests... without giving him _too_ much freedom. If he sees that she's working hard, perhaps he'll allow some of those walls to come down during their sessions... Maybe even gain a little trust between them.

**_"I think you're someone who can help me, unlike the other doctors here. This _**_**might**_**_ just work out. I feel like I can come to trust you... Maybe even tell ya my _**_**secrets."**_

The clown's words have run through her thoughts multiple times since their first session. Whether it's just a manipulation tactic or not, she wants to prove that it's true. She _is_ different from the other doctors and will show him.

"You can't be serious, Alyce! That's a terrible idea! Giving him any room is a mis-"

"I agree..._with_ _Alyce_. When I took over this place, I aspired to cure these patients, _not_ for my asylum to act as another prison for Gotham. Blackgate is for putting away criminals, Arkham is to rehabilitate those who are sick and need help. This is my decision for now on this matter. Aaron-" Jeremiah leans back in his chair, giving his oldest guard a pointed look. "-make the appropriate arrangements and _please_…have a talk with your men. We have enough to deal with at the moment, without any more problems. I expect my staff to be a part of the solution, not the problem."

"Thank you, Dr. Arkham... I appreciate you listening to both sides, before making a decision." Harleen bites her bottom lip, trying to hold in the excitement from bursting out. Her chest tightens with this small victory. Even if it's just one step forward, it's a hell of a lot better than going backward.

_'A victory is still a victory...'_

"We have another matter to discuss..." Seeing the disgruntled expression on the guard's face, Jeremiah changes the subject. He doesn't want to argue with his employees when he's already given the final word. They all know how passionate Cash can be, especially when it comes to unruly patients. It's better to get his mind on something else, otherwise, they'll be here for the rest of the day in a heated debate.

"Blackgate is transferring another inmate to the asylum today. It's...kind of an emergency situation. I wanted to discuss it with you before this, Aaron, but better now than later. This involves you as well, Harleen. I'd like you to take this case on because I already know the other doctors will outright refuse." Sighing, the older man pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly exhausted just from thinking about it.

"It's Victor Zsasz... Blackgate can't handle him and this is the only place that capable or is 'willing' to take him in." Running a hand through his light brown hair, Jeremiah knows how this will turn out. Like The Joker, this won't be Victor's first time in Arkham. Noticing the similar reactions around the room, he purses his lips together tightly. All except for Alyce, who remains passive as usual. There's nothing that surprises this woman anymore.

"No... You can't be serious."

* * *

"Friday, November 24th 20XX. Time 12:00 PM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel beginning session with Patient 0801. The Joker."

Looking away from the recorder, Harleen feels much better about this session than the last. At least this time, she has some good news to give him and wants to see what kind of reaction she can elicit from this man.

Joker sits across from her, looking down towards the table, mulling over something. Unlike their previous meeting, his expression doesn't seem bored _or_ amused, and there's no hint of his typical smile.

Blue eyes study him intently, wondering what's going on in his mind. Then again... If she could peer inside that head of his, she wouldn't have to work so hard and spend copious amounts of time researching him. It's difficult trying to find some sort of understanding in this man's actions or the motivation behind them.

"Jo-...J? How are you feeling today?" A thin brow raises as she tilts her head. There's no reaction or anything to indicate that he's even listening, while he stares in the same spot.

'What's going on with him today? Even when he was bored last time, he still couldn't stop moving around... Did something happen in D-block? Or with the guards?'

There was usually a hint of amusement towards everything, even when he mentioned the guards beating him. Today, the Joker just seems…_lifeless_, like someone sucked the energy right out of him and is holding it hostage in some dark corner of the asylum.

With his attention elsewhere, Harleen takes the chance to let her eyes roam without feeling intimidated. After confronting the guards the other day, there seems to be an improvement with the personal hygiene issue.

Joker's appearance is considerably different compared to their last session. Instead of greasy hair glued across his face, it's hanging down to his shoulders in soft waves. The dye has faded considerably in comparison to the mugshot taken at the MCU. She can see the light brown roots coming in that twist into a dirty blonde shade, with patches of faded green throughout it. His skin looked much clearer-_and cleaner-_showing an even tan that surprises her. With the dirt finally washed away and a few good meals, he's not as pale as she remembers. Before meeting him, the blonde imagined his actual skin tone to match the greasepaint, but it's very different in person. Despite the improved condition, he still has those shadowy circles around his dark eyes. Perhaps they're just a permanent fixture that won't be going away, even with a shower or sleep.

The most important part is that she can't _smell_ him at all. Last time, the stench of sweat, mildew, and other's bodily excretions she refuses to place was overwhelming on her senses. This jumpsuit looks fresh, not covered in stains and other ungodly things she doesn't want to think about...

_'That little talk John and I had with the other guards seem to have help. Joker looks so much better, even if he's acting a bit…strange. I hope the guards didn't do anything worse to him thinking that he ratted them out.' _

Excluding the jagged, raised scars around his mouth and the facial quirks, Joker looks like any normal person. There aren't any horns hidden by his messy hair or a tail sticking out the back. His eyes don't glow red and no fangs are poking out. All Harleen sees is a man, one that's been through hell and is rejected by the world he fails to fit into perfectly.

There isn't a monster sitting across from her, but a human being. It's strange how different he looks without the greasepaint and eccentric clothing that stops others from seeing the man beneath it all. The clown's quite handsome when he's cleaned up, scars and all. He has a strong jaw and charming features. When his facial muscles shift a certain way, it reveals that he has dimples that the scars run through.

The doctor can't help wondering what this man would've been like if it weren't for that 'one bad day'... How was he before it? Did he commit crimes back then too or was it after the 'attack' that left him disfigured? So many questions with no answers. One thing she did know for sure, was that he wouldn't have had a problem with women based on his appearance alone. Most desire a tall, good-looking man with a lean physique, but after the scars… He probably had one hell of a time dealing with the fairer sex.

"J?... _Mr_. J?..." It seems like he's in a whole different world altogether. Is he purposely ignoring her? "_Joker?_"

Blinking a few times, like just awakening from a dream, he drags his gaze from the table up towards her face. When their eyes meet, the anxiety she believed had finally disappeared, returns in full-force. Of all the criminals and patients she's met and continues to have sessions with, he makes her feel on edge the most... It's much harder trying to figure out this one than any other.

"How are you feeling today? You look much better than the last time we met. Have things improved?" Harleen chews on the inside of her cheek, waiting for a reply. He still seems out of it, like there's something he's dwelling on that's far more important than this session. She waves her hand, trying to get his attention back on their meeting and not wherever his mind is currently at. Part of her wants to ask what's distracting him like this but knows that he won't give a direct answer. That's just being _too_ hopeful.

Raising a brow, Joker shifts his head to the side and she can swear he's chewing on the inside of his cheek too, by the way his jaw's moving. He leans back in the chair and curls his top lip. "I, ah, think you mean I _smell_ much better than last time." A grin spread across his face, glancing down at his orange jumpsuit.

"Ahh... N-_No_. That's not what I meant." Heat rushes to the doctor's face, feeling completely embarrassed from knowing he's partially right. Telling a grown man—_who's her patient_—that he reeked and she's glad he doesn't stink so badly now, is _not_ something Harleen will admit to.

_Nope._

"Oh, but it _is_ what you meant..." With a toothy smile, he shakes his head side to side, making the clean waves of hair bounce around. It's almost like he's not used to them sticking to his face with every little movement. "Can't remember the last time it did _that_." The clown snickers in amusement and she's not sure if it's a good thing or not. Does he like his hair being greasy and clinging to his skin? Within in less than a minute, his mood seemed to change entirely, something the doctor can't help noticing.

'Interesting...but I don't think that's what he was thinking about. At least he's listening now.'

There's no reason to try arguing over the question if that's what she meant or not. It's not like he's wrong, but she wants to try getting a little more out of this session than the last. The process will be slow, but any progress they make means she's getting somewhere.

"So-"

"Well, Doc. I will say that I'm pleasantly surprised how quickly ya got to work after our little, uh, _therapy session_. Ya kept your word... _I like that_. Most doctors that wanted to 'help' me, just blew smoke up my ass." Joker straightens his back in the chair, shifting his around with a grunt. "Makes me feel like I can trust ya. I think you're better at your job than ya give yourself credit for... Usually, I gotta say the same thing for _weeks_ on end, before they remember I even said anything in the first place."

Harleen swallows hard as she listens to him. Despite knowing that he's most likely kissing up and trying to manipulate her, she can't help the way her chest tightens at his praise. Since the day she started working in the asylum, it's been her goal to show the patients and staff what she's capable of... Only for them to constantly look down on her efforts.

"Well, if we're going to work on your rehabilitation, there needs some semblance of trust between patient and doctor. We can't exactly focus on that if your physical condition is deteriorating. Can we?" Sifting through the papers in front of her, she glances at the notes she wrote during the previous session about points the clown made that she wants to fix.

"That's right!" The chains rattle when he moves around on the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Either that or something hurts and he's trying not to lean on it.

"I spoke with Dr. Arkham about the straight jacket situation, J. There's a large concern from the guards about taking it off, mostly due to your actions in the past. It's a security risk, which I'm sure you can understand..." Before letting him know the decision they came up with, the doctor wants to see what he might say or how he'll react to this. Lash out in anger? Pull at the chains? Gnash his teeth? The best way of learning how to understand this man is to start by observing his behavior.

"And here I promised I'd be a good boy for them this time. Got it, Doc! Ya see, I've decided to turn over a new leaf. What's a man to do? _Hmm?_ Guess there's nothing that can be done..." Leaning back in his seat, his dark eyes narrow on her. He's doing the same as her, observing and reacting based on what the other says.

_'Cunning. What's he trying to do? Does he already know about what happened at the meeting? Am I just being paranoid? Does he really not care or is he just acting indifferent?'_

**_"I see and hear everything, Doc..."_**

This is worrisome. Where's he getting information from? At the same time, it just only serves to make her all the more intrigued. Known for being a pathological liar, the words that come from his mouth can't be trusted. She needs to figure out a way to sift through them.

"That's great to hear. You know, if you're willing to work with us, it'll make everything a lot easier for you. It's when you get a little wiggle room, that it turns for the worse. That's why the restraints have been left on for so long. If you _truly _want to turn over a new leaf, then show the staff you mean it."

Cocking his head to the side, Joker's smile widens, but there's nothing humorous or benevolent about it. "Trust me, I have every intention of showing the staff just _how_ serious I am."

A chill runs down Harleen's spine as something twists in her gut from the possible meaning behind his words. They can easily be taken the wrong way, but he knows that.

Trying to shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, the blonde adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose. She refuses to let his words intimate her, not this time... It's not like she doesn't know what kind of man he is, but part of her wants to believe he can change. _That she can help him_…

"We came to a decision with the staff... While in your cell, the straight jacket will be taken off. Other than that, it stays on. To the shower room, to our sessions, etc. This will be temporary, depending on what we observe. If you're compliant and do what you're supposed to, maybe things can change. I vouched for you to Dr. Arkham, J... Please, don't make me regret it." The clown's eyes light up for a split-second, but she doesn't miss it.

If something happens at this point, she'll get blamed for bringing it up in the first place. She wants to show Joker that someone's in his corner and hopefully gain some trust between them. Maybe then, he'll start opening up honestly, instead of the lies and false stories.

"Why would _I_ do that? You've been _such_ a big help already! Don't wanna make you look bad in front of the top brass. Right? Their opinion of you is _so_ important, after all! Can't be seen as a great psychiatrist, unless you have their stamp of approval. Am I wrong?" Harleen arches a brow, staring at the clown drowning in a sudden fit of laughter across the table. How does he know about that? It's not like she's talked about it with anyone...

_'This man sees far more than he should...'_

"That's _not_ what this is about. I don't need their approval for that. I know what I am and I'm certainly not interested in other's opinions. What gives you that impression?" It's a lie... Deep down, she knows it's true, and hearing it out loud is infuriating. He doesn't have to know that though.

"Come on, Har... I can see it in your eyes! As I said, we're not too far off from each other." Harleen is positive that he's baiting her, trying to find a common ground between them. That way when they get there, he can try stepping over her. That's _not_ going to happen... Joker is underestimating her capabilities and thinks his above-average intelligence gives him a clear advantage over everyone and everything. Maybe it's what he's used to out on the streets, but that won't work in here. She's a doctor, not some henchman he can manipulate.

_'Har? Giving me a pet name? I can see what he's trying to pull and it's not going to work.'_

"It's _Harleen_. Anyway, J... If you want to get that straight jacket off when you're sitting in your cell, don't threaten anyone or cause trouble. Whether you mean it or not, the guards are watching your every move, so keep that in mind." If the guards hear or see him doing anything out of line, it'll be a step backward and they'll be right where they started. Just one toe where it shouldn't be and he'll end up confined to the bed if Cash has it his way.

"You mean _pinkie_? It was a misunderstanding, I _swear_. The guards just like causing problems for me. What can I do from behind that glass anyway? Last time I was here, they didn't have them." He shrugs, pretending to be an innocent victim, but Harleen knows better. As if he isn't known for threatening _and_ killing other patients and staff members. Does he think she's naïve enough to believe he can't get out somehow?

The Joker's broken out of his cell more times than any other patient in the history of the asylum. Just because there's bulletproof glass doesn't mean it'll stop him for good. There's always a way around anything if a person's crafty enough. If someone does happen to get from behind the new doors, it'll be this man.

"That may be true, but all eyes will still be on you. The guards wanted to have you moved to a different cell for that reason, but I feel that it should be fine if you keep following the rules. Some of the guards are still concerned... Sakura doesn't seem to be, so I don't think there's any need for unnecessary changes." Her heels tap against each other beneath the table, wondering if he'll take the bait.

Throwing her a suspicious sideways glance, his dark eyes narrowed at the mention of the pinkette's name. The clown smacks his lips in annoyance and rolls his shoulders like he's trying to get the tension out. Was that too much? Should she have waited or worded it differently?

"_So_..." Letting his head lull back, he stares up at the ceiling and barks out a laugh. Harleen feels her skin prickling with goosebumps from how the air suddenly changes in the room. It almost like his moods control the atmosphere in this small space. What is this feeling? It reminds her of how it felt when the Mad Hatter wrapped his hands around her throat… Is this the bloodlust a few of the seasoned doctors mentioned before? She didn't entirely believe it at first, thinking they were rattling on to make themselves feel superior. Any yet… What else can this sensation be called? She's been with plenty of murders that gave her the creeps, but nothing like this… "The _princess_ was talking to you about me."

_'The princess… Why does he call her that? There's obviously a lot of tension between these two. Maybe it's not such a good idea to keep them together. Sakura might end up being hurt.'_

"What she say about me_? Hmm?_" Throwing his head forward at a speed that would've given a person whiplash, the doctor jumps back in her seat at his sudden manic behavior. "C'mon, _Harley_... We're friends, right? Friends, ah, _tell_ each other when people are talking behind their backs. _Don't they?" _Harleen realizes it might have been a bad idea to bring her up, but it's turning out very informative. He's reacting far more to this subject, than anything else so far. She needs to watch and listen to everything that happens while making mental notes along the way. This will be good in the long run.

However, the blonde also realizes that she's _scared_. Joker's giving a small tug on the chains restraining him to the chair by moving his body around like he can't bear to sit still any longer. He's suddenly filled with energy, a complete difference from how the session began. She almost can't look into his eyes, they're impossibly dark and _wild_, with something trying to claw its way to the surface.

Harleen needs to brush her fears aside to stay on track. It takes a moment to recall the last thing he said before his reaction startled her. She didn't miss the way the muscle in his cheek jumped when she mentioned Sakura's name. Does he despise that woman this much?

_'He said friends? Is that the angle he's going for? Why does he want to know what she said so badly? Is he worried something was said that'll lose any privileges?'_

"J, I told you already that it's _Harleen_. I'm not even supposed to tell you anything she said... 'patient confidentiality'... but I asked her how she felt about the situation and that's how she answered. Does it interest you that much about what she might've said? I wouldn't have suspected that a man like you would care what someone like Sakura might say..." Seeing the way Joker's eyes darken as he licks his lips makes her feel uneasy.

"If I'm not mistaken, pumpkin... I'd say you just might be _jealous_." Blue eyes widen at the accusation. Does he think that she's jealous? _Of a patient?_ That is completely absurd... Doesn't he realize she's trying to bait reactions from him?

There isn't anything to compare... Harleen's a beautiful, successful doctor with a great career ahead of her. Self-sufficient, independent, strong-willed... She has a nice car and home to go to every night and doesn't have to worry about paying the bills every month.

Sakura is pretty in her own right and has a pleasant personality, but there are deep problems that have kept her in Arkham for the last few years. No home to return to after being released, no job or money. Even with Harleen and the next hospital's assistance, it'll still be difficult for her to secure those basic necessities with a record... Not to mention her 'unique' appearance. Right now, she can't even bathe herself, without guards escorting her to the shower room... What's there to feel jealous about? The doctor has sympathy for the woman… They have a bond as doctor and patient, but that's the extent of it. She'd never want to trade places, not even in a million years.

"I think you're mistaken, J. Please don't project ideas like that onto me."

"Don't worry, Har. I'm a 'one-woman' clown... Ya know you're my special lady, right? Wednesdays and Fridays are my favorite days of the week now." A toothy smile spread across his face as he leans forward, dropping his voice down a few octaves. "You're the only woman I think about in my cell all night. And the, ah, _shower_ _room_ too..."

Harleen freeze, not sure she heard right? Did he just say that? She tries not to let the shock play out on her face but fails to stop the heat coiling in her cheeks. It's obvious that he's trying to play her, hoping to get her guard down... Even still, she can't help the way it's making her feel. A dangerous, handsome man speaking in such a deep voice, not caring who's listening and insinuating that she's the only woman on his mind...amongst _other_ things.

"Harleen is just _so_ long and boring. Ya look more like a Harley. A good name for a beautiful woman, right? You're a lot like one too. Just _waiting_ for someone to rev ya up, so you can finally zip away from this place and let the wind blow through your hair!" He cackles, throwing himself back against the chair and pulling at the chains wrapped around him.

"I can see it in your eyes, you're tired of this life as a psychiatrist. Part of ya just _yearns_ for some excitement! _Adventure_! Aren't ya exhausted from always sitting back, listening to everyone's problems, while they just expect the answers to be handed to them? But... Who's listening to you, pumpkin? Do any of those people care or hear you out? From your expression, I _really_ doubt it." There a short moment of silence as he lets the words sink into her mind, watching in amusement how her expression shifts from being appalled to horrified.

"Day in and day out, you listen _so_ carefully, giving everyone your full attention. What do you get in return? _Nothing_. If anyone cared, they would've seen in you what I do... A woman desperately itching to get out of that restricting coat and free herself from the opinions and desires of those who couldn't care less about your internal struggle. Ya work _so_ hard to show your talent in hopes of receiving recognition, just for them to undermine you, _sweet_ Harley. If you prioritize yourself and what _you_ want, maybe you'll find what's been missing. Stop caring what _they_ think. _They_ aren't the ones walking in them gorgeous heels of yours..." Joker leans back with a smug look, knowing he hit the nail on the head and it's painful for her. Just hearing the truth that she's tried denying for years is a hard pill to swallow. She never wanted to admit it to herself that she feels that way, always believing it makes her a selfish person.

"Mr. J... Don't presume to think you understand everything about me. We've only talked a few times. I'm here to help _you_, not the other way around..." Despite her words, he's made an unwanted impression on her. They've only spoken a handful of times and he knows so much, without saying much about herself. It was frightening how deep he can delve into someone with very little to work with...

"Listen, pumpkin… We're more alike than you give us credit for. I know you're here to help me, but that doesn't mean we can't talk like this. You're a human being too. If we're going to build a relationship, it doesn't hurt to try getting to know each other. After all, I find you very _interesting_…"

Harleen sighs, running a hand through her blonde hair. She won't let this man get into her head...or heart. No matter how fast it's beating...

* * *

_"HAHAHA!"_ Joker just can't help himself, sitting on the bed and rolling into another fit of manic laughter. This is too damn good...

Glancing down, he moves his arms around experimentally, enjoying the freedom they now have. For the guards to take the straightjacket off, one of the doctors gave him a hefty dose of tranquilizers to make him groggy enough that the men would be willing to get near him.

'Thanks, Doc... You're _such_ a doll!' That woman's smart, but lonely. He can see it in her eyes and body language. It won't be long until he digs his claws completely into her skull. He knows her kind, always trying to prove themselves to someone who doesn't give two-shits about their efforts. Working so hard and denying herself the simple pleasures in life... It was painfully clear within the first few minutes of their initial session.

The strings she'll be willing to pull for him is exciting... Just a little longer and he'll have her eating out of his hand. The way she became agitated when talking about Sakura gave her away, even if she won't admit it to herself. The doctor's intrigued and curious about him... He knows exactly what she wants and he'll pretend to be giving it to her, until the right moment.

Looking over at the cell across the hall, Joker can't help the sneer on his face watching that stupid woman reading.

_'You're not the only one who can wrap people around your fingers, dollface...'_

He'll show that bitch who's boss and dammit, she'll be one sorry piece of ass. Now that his arms are free, the countdown towards the hour reckoning is coming...

After making light of him and joking about her hands, the pinkette has been ignoring him for the last day and a half. Even when he gloated through the hole in the glass that his straightjacket was coming off, she didn't even give him the pleasure of at least _acting_ worried...

"Can't cleanse their sins without the glasses anymore..."

Joker's ears perk up from hearing the familiar voice filtering over from the cell next to his. It's one he hasn't heard in a while.

_'So, that man's here now too.'_

"The _glasses_...so I can see myself reflected-" He recognizes that groan without pushing his face up against the glass to see who the new neighbor is. "-in their artificial faces..."

"_Vicky!_ Long time, no see!" The clown playfully calls out to the serial killer in the cell over, knowing full well he won't get an answer. Not with the way this man has changed recently… He was nuttier than squirrel shit from the get-go, but there's _always_ room to become stranger.

Victor Zsasz is a _wild_ man with a penchant for murdering young women and others he deems 'lifeless zombies'. His weapon of choice is a large knife that he uses to cut their throats or stab them to death. The clown can respect a man who shares an interest and admiration for a fine piece of steel.

Nothing is more beautiful or dangerous in this world than a _blade_. They're the only thing that will never lie or betray its wielder and is capable of drawing the truth out of men. A wonderful balance that is constantly underappreciated and overlooked by most fools. Man's greatest achievement to date that never fails to bring entertainment and fear, mixing into a delectable sensation that makes his blood _sing_.

_Fun stuff._

Joker can hear the man's feet tapping against the cold floor from him pacing back and forth, muttering weird shit to himself. Some things never seem to change, but when they do, it's always for the worse.

"They're _begging_ me to baptize them anew in the liturgy of the knife and blood..."

"You mental case! I already said you're not getting those damn sunglasses back, so just shut the hell up already!" Harold's voice can be heard echoing down the hall, being followed up with loud bangs. There's no doubt he's smacking his favorite toy against the glass of Victor's cell.

"_Harold!_ What are you doing?" Joker's neck cranes back when he hears a woman's voice. Heels click loudly against the hard surface of the floor, coming closer at a quick pace. The clown also knows _this_ one very well too.

_'My, my... What's the good doctor doing in this block?'_

"You're a guard here! These are our patients, not animals in a zoo. Don't bang that thing against the glass. All you're going to do is rile them up!" The blonde's stomping down the hallway in another indignant rage at someone upsetting her _precious_ patients. His lips curl up into a sneer as she comes closer. It's hard to hold in the laughter as she's about to pass by his cell.

"_Harley!_ What a surprise!" Harleen freezes in mid-step as soon as she hears _his_ voice. Turning towards the glass, her blue eyes widen when she notices the clown standing up and freely moving his arms around.

"Did you come just to see me? _Hah._ You shouldn't have! Such a naughty girl, comin' to D-block for 'ol Mista J... I was _just_ thinking about you too. Ya know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear. Did ya come to give me a goodnight kiss?" Smacking his lips together, a grin spreads across Joker's face when he sees how positively _flush_ the doctor's face is. It's so much easier to embarrass this woman when she's off guard and not sitting on her high horse in their sessions.

"M- Joker... It's _Dr. Quinzel_ like I've told you _many_ times before..." Harleen glances away towards the guard looking at them curiously. "And I'm here to see Mr. Zsasz, not you." Lowering her voice when Harold turns away in disinterest, she takes a few steps closer to the glass. "Not only that, but it's the middle of the day..."

The clown's eyes light up from watching the doctor shifting uncomfortably on her heels, noticing the way her cheeks are a pretty shade of _pink_. She looks like a shy schoolgirl that's flustered when her crush suddenly talks to her for the first time. Perhaps he still has it after all...

"Is it _really_? Forgive me, Doc... There's no clocks or windows around, can't tell what time of day it is!" Turning his head back and forth to emphasize his point, the doctor lets out a small chuckle at his animated actions. "C'mon, be honest. Ya came here to see me, didn't ya? Zsaszy just got here... Doctors don't come into D-block to check on a 'patient' the same day they're admitted. I know what you're up to and I'm _not_ disappointed. It's quite…_flattering_."

The words are almost enough to make him gag, but he pulls it off flawlessly anyway. He knows what people want, sometimes before they even realize it for themselves. This woman wants honey-coated bullshit and to feel special. If that's what it takes to get what he wants, he'll vomit sugar until his plans come to fruition.

Harleen bites her lip with an indignant expression on her face. Crossing her arms over her chest, the blonde taps her foot impatiently. "The world doesn't revolve around you... _Joker_. I have other patients that need my help as well. _Some_ more than others." She might say that, but he can see behind the mask. It's what he does and has gotten him this far.

"_C'mon_. You were thinking about what I said earlier, don't lie. Such a nice, long talk we had... I enjoy them _so_ much. I'm already looking forward to our, ah, next _session_." The doctor stands there, narrowing her eyes at him. Is he right? Even if he isn't, he knows he hit close to the mark. She doesn't have to see Zsasz on the same day he's brought in and she knew damn well that he's in D-block. Usually, a patient has to wait until the staff schedules an appointment for them to meet with their psychiatrist.

"_Fucking hell..."_ Looking past the doctor, his dark eyes glance at the pinkette tossing her book down onto the bed. "Can you put it on any _thicker_? Doctor... I swear to God, if you fall for that shit..."

"HAHAHA!" He can't contain his laughter at the horrified expression on the blonde's face before she turns toward the cell across from him. There's no doubt Sakura can see the pink hue across the doctor's cheeks and the way she's shifting uncomfortably. She didn't realize they had an audience, by her reaction. How Harleen can forget the pinkette's over there is beyond him. She's the one who mentioned her and their cell placement multiple times.

_'Unless, Har was so focused on me, that it slipped her mind.'_

Shaking her head and throwing Sakura a pointed look, Harleen quickly stomps away. Her heels give away that she's heading towards the guard reprimanding the inmate right next-door. She must've been embarrassed by not realizing someone was listening. Harold's too busy to pay attention while trying to deal with the serial killer banging on the glass, demanding his shades back.

_'I'm getting somewhere...' _

The blonde feels isolated and wants someone to hear her out...That much he can tell after their one-hour session earlier. All the time, she listens to other people's stories and problems, trying her best to help them. The problem is that there's no one willing to do the same for her, even if she's reluctant to admit it. Getting her to trust him will be easy. He just needs to show her there's not much of a difference between them…even if there really is.

_'Foolish woman…'_

Tearing his eyes away from the doctor's retreating, he narrows his gaze on the woman glaring at him from across the hall. Internally, he's smiling ear-to-ear, completely smug and relishing in this little development. She looks agitated, a more than welcome difference in comparison to her usual expression.

"What's wrong, Sakura? Are you, ah, _jealous_ perhaps?"

The pinkette scoffs, picking her book back up. "Jealous of what? I just pity the poor woman."

Joker frowns, running his tongue over his scars... The ones that little witch made fun of. Now that he's got her after she's been ignoring him for some time, he has every intention of seeing how far he can push this. Might as well poke the lioness since she's up. "Pity her for what? We had a good time together. She's _lots_ of fun."

"I'm sure she is. I guess if you're getting paid for it, some people will do anything for a buck...or to get their straight jacket off." A grin spreads across her face as she peeks over the book at him.

"That's right, sweetheart! I'm loose now... Won't be so cocky soon. You're not the only one who can get things done around here." Joker's features turn hard and mean, using his expression instead of words to get his point across. He waits, watching intently for realization to hit the pious wench. Instead, she kicks her feet, giggling at something in that stupid book he plans to burn.

Doesn't she get the implications of his newfound freedom? That it means he's going to tear into her little body when he gets the chance? Or does she really not care? He shifts his jaw, gnawing on the familiar corded scar tissue on the inside of his mouth. Since when do people act like they don't fucking care when the goddamn _Joker_ threatens to kill them?

It's infuriating beyond belief. This isn't something he's used to and doesn't want to either. He'll use her as an example for everyone else, that he doesn't have any limits and how violent he truly is. He can't remember the last time a person acted so passively towards his presence or the looming threat he imposes. Outside of this godforsaken place, he's known as a monster among men.

The last man to call him a 'freak' before coming here, was the Chechen. His fate? Joker had the drug dealer's _own_ men cut him up into pieces and fed to his _own_ dogs, which the clown kept afterward, because…why not? Now that he's in Arkham, these morons treat him like a joke, with this bitch as the ringleader of the circus this asylum's turned into.

Arkham is _his_ asylum, the same way Gotham is _his_ city. Everyone just needs a healthy dose of reality and a brutal wake-up call, which he's kind enough to give.

"Mr. Zsasz! Please, calm down! We cannot give your sunglasses back, they're a safety hazard..." The blonde's voice echoes down the hall as the banging gets increasingly louder. Hopefully, this won't be another all-nighter or there'll be two necks that need breaking.

"Zombie! Damn zombies everywhere... _Look!_ There's one _right_ there. Give me my fucking glasses back!" The clown laughs from hearing the people arguing in the next cell, knowing what the marked-man means. He always calls his victims zombies... Lifeless people that he feels obligated to kill in order to _save_ them. He honestly believes he's doing them a favor. _"Please?!"_

"Sorry clown... Looks like you have to get in line..." Turning back towards the pinkette laying on the bed, he arches a brow. What the hell's she blabbering about now? Sakura _'tsks'_ and rolls her eyes, almost in disbelief at how dim he is. He'd love to smack her for it. A thin finger points away from him, towards the direction from where the noise is coming from.

Walking towards the corner of the cell, Joker pushes his face up against the glass to get a better look. Out of sheer curiosity, of course. Thanks to the shitty construction, the walls are uneven, making it so he can see a little into the next room.

Harold's standing there with his nightstick tight in his grip, while Harleen runs a hand down her face in exasperation, shaking her head. Moving his head to the side, he can just barely see the man leaning up against the glass.

The top of his jumpsuit comes down low enough to expose some of the tally marks he carved into his own skin for every one of his victims. The clown has seen them before... The last time they ran into each other on the streets of Gotham, the scars were all over his chest and arms. Since then, they've probably increased multiple times over, while working for Roman Sionis—_Black Mask_.

The first time Joker met Zsasz, he was recently recruited by Black Mask, who's more than willing to have the killer work for pay, having enough money that it wasn't an issue. Vicky doesn't care, he just wants more excuses to get rid of the 'zombies'.

…..

_When he comes across Zsasz in a garbage-filled alley, the man still had his blonde hair and was shirtless, with his chest covered in blood. He's positioning a young woman against some boxes, moving her limbs around at his leisure, like it's the most normal thing in the world. Her eyes are open and as wide as the gash across her slit-throat._

_Hearing the footsteps, the man spins around with a bloody knife between his teeth. His own eyes are covered by the dark shades he's wearing. The clown doesn't like it when he can't see into them, it ticks him off. They're the gateway into the soul, where no one can hide behind their words and lies._

_Joker can't resist laughing at the scene, it's so absurd. Victor quickly jumps up and pulls the knife out of his mouth, raising it towards him._

_"What the hell you want?" He's on the offensive, but the clown doesn't care. Someone like him won't be a problem, even if he tries._

_"Hey, fella... Relax." Stepping under a streetlamp, he notices the man's expression change as he recognizes the greasepaint. "Don't worry... Unlike some people, I have an appreciation for other's art. Don't stop on my account!"_

_Giving the Joker a sideways glance, he lowers the knife but doesn't put it away either. Smart. He has experience in these kinds of situations and knows better than to let his guard down._

_"Wanna hear a joke?" A smile spreads across the clown's ruined mouth when Victor's brows furrow, not waiting for a confirmation. "What's green, and goes round and round?"_

_Without missing a beat, the man's eyes light up when he answers. "Frog in a blender."_

_Joker stares at him for a moment, soaking in what he just said. Throwing his head back, he couldn't stop the laughter making his chest rumble._ _"HAHAHAAAA!"_

_…._

The smile on his face fades when he notices what Victor's doing. He's pressed up against the glass, glaring fiercely and it's not from the missing accessory. It's not aimed at the buffoon or the doctor, but towards the cell across the hall. He can see the direction the man's eyes are staring in with a burning intensity.

"You missed all the fun earlier..." Sakura's soft voice draws him back. "I guess I have the look of a lifeless zombie. _Hah!"_ The pinkette smiles and rolls onto her back, raising those weak-looking arms above her head. She arches her back with a loud groan, stretching out across the bed. The clown curls his lips in distaste at the way she's giving him and Zsasz a show, whether she realizes it or not.

_'Goddammit...'_

Craning her head back so she can still look at him, Joker finds it agitating how amused she seems about the entire ordeal. Doesn't the pinkette realize what position she's in or is she really _that_ ignorant?

While he likes to drag things out and play with his food, before he eats it, Victor is a different story. There's no doubt that if he gets out of his cage, that woman's throat will be slit-open without _any_ hesitation. Aside from himself, Zsasz is probably the second most infamous patient that's able to get out of his cell wherever he's being held.

"I wonder who'll get to me first... The _clown_ or the _skinhead_..." Pushing up off the bed, Sakura languidly crawls towards the edge, taking her sweet ass time. She swings her legs over the side and sits up, tapping a slim finger against her bottom lip with a smile. The pinkette seems as if she really couldn't care less what either man does, but finds this amusing.

A growl reverberates through Joker's chest at her words. They're antagonizing like she's challenging him to see which one of them can murder her first. Does she want to die _that_ badly? It _almost_ makes him _not_ want to kill her, because he'll be giving her what she wants. The thought of making this woman suffer for weeks on end, while he gets under her skin, is very tempting too…

_'Dilemmas... Haven't had one of those in a while.'_

Then again... Sakura's supposedly up for evaluation soon and might be transferred in a few weeks. He won't let that happen, not after all she's said and done. That witch isn't leaving this asylum unless it's in a body bag.

There's no way in hell that he'll let Victor have this one. _This is personal_. That woman is his to end and he won't let anyone else get in the way. If this is a race to the finish line, Joker will win... One way or another.

_Tonight._.. He'll have to do it tonight before it's too late.


	6. Worse Than Death

Tonight is unnaturally quiet… A rare occurrence in Arkham.

Dark eyes flicker back and forth from the small bed against the wall, watching and waiting. Timing is always everything and he can be a patient man when it comes to something he desperately wants. _And boy, does he want this._ The beating in his chest is reaching a deafening rhythm from being overwhelmed with anticipation. His body is full of energy from the excitement like little electrical impulses are surging through his entire being. This is _Joker's_ night.

_Oh, how he's waited for this moment..._

Since arriving in the asylum, this little mission the Joker set out for himself has become almost..._consuming_. This isn't the reason he came here. No, not at all. There are other plans, far more important ones that should've been taking up all his time being stuck in this shitty cell.

The only problem is he already had it all figured out in Blackgate while twiddling his thumbs and staring at the dingy, dark walls. Everything else is just on a whim. After all, he wants to have a _little_ fun along the way... If each part is set in stone and 'followed to a T', that doesn't leave much room for suspense from the unexpected. The clown's plans just end up working out better than anticipated and he has to throw a monkey wrench into the mix to make things more interesting...

That monkey is more of a flying rat, but that isn't going to happen here. Not unless he plays some big hands... If everything works out, maybe he'll be able to draw the Bat out of his cave.

_That will be fun._

A laugh leaves his ruined lips at the thought, grazing his calloused fingers along the length of his scars. They've become so rough over the years from the way he consistently manhandles _everything_. Leather gloves have helped a bit, but the damage has already been done.

After the _death_ of Harvey Dent a couple of months ago, the Bat completely fell off the radar. It wasn't unexpected...at least to the Joker. He knows how stringent the 'caped crusader' is with those pesky, little rules he sets for himself.

The only way to live in this world is _without_ rules…and he would prove it to him. After all, they're a lot alike. Both freaks who hide their true faces, while scouring the dark streets of Gotham at night. The GCPD doesn't trust either and only sees them as criminals that need to be stopped.

It's a shame the Bat refuses to see the reality of this world. The Gotham police only use him to do the things they can't or are unwilling to do. As soon as something doesn't go their way or have no further use for him, they'll throw the 'hero' away, without a second thought. The authority's actions after Dent's death proved that more than anything.

Blame for the murders committed by Dent and even his own death was pinned on Batman as a way of saving the late District Attorney's perfectly manicured image. The entire police force is chasing the man who was willing to give his life to protect the city at any cost. It's pathetic...

_He was warned…_

Everything he told the Bat during his little interrogation at the MCU came to pass. Part of the game is giving players the idea that there's a choice in different parts or that they can affect the outcome in some way. In reality, that's not the case. Joker only gives them the illusion they can. He already knows what will happen, because he bases his plans around how the pawns will react. As a man of his word, he kept true to his threats. The three DNA prints on his card he strategically left at one of the crime scenes are proof of that. Those he said will die, did…and the GCPD turned on Batman just like he predicted.

….…

_"You're garbage that kills for money." The deep, raspy voice echoes through the empty room. The Bat narrows his dark eyes on the clown that's watching him. _

_"Don't talk like one of them. You're not... Even if you'd like to be..." Leaning closer to the edge of the cold table, Joker wants to shake his head at this man's delusions. Does he really think he's one of them? What a fool. "To them, you're just a freak... Like me! They need ya right now, but when they don't..." He shifts his head to the side, sucking in his bottom lip. The greasepaint on his face is so worn from their little game throughout the night. It's missing in patches and cracked along the creases of his face, especially on his forehead from the expressions he makes. That, and the cops weren't too gentle banging him around all the way here. _

_"They'll cast you out...like a leper! Ya see… Their morals, their code… It's a bad joke." His tongue snakes out over the dry scars around his mouth, relishing in the familiar taste of smoke and greasepaint. "Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show ya." _

_Batman stares at the clown nodding to himself. From seeing the look in those dark eyes behind the mask, he knows the flying rat is listening intently. Whether he can get him to accept the truth of the matter is a different story. Will he see things as they really are, or go back to the fantasy he's been living in for the last year or so?_

_"When the chips are down, these, ah, 'civilized people'...they'll eat each other. See, I'm not a monster.." Sitting back against the chair, he can tell that his point has been made. The Bat isn't saying anything and lets him rattle on because he can't argue and they both know it. "I'm just ahead of the curve." _

_Lashing out, Batman grabs the front of his green waistcoat and yanks him over the table. "Where's Dent?!" Anger radiated off in violent waves, exciting the Joker._

_Sure, he wants to know where to find the District Attorney, but this isn't what's enraging him to the extent of trying to hurt the clown. It's the frustrating knowledge that he's right. Batman knows everything he's saying is true and refuses to admit it. If he does, then it means everything he stands for...everything he fights for...the respect he thought he's earned...is all a lie. _

_"You have all these rules, and you think they'll save you!"_

_…._

"HAHAHAHA!" Laughter bounces off the walls of the small cell as his head falls back, looking up towards the ceiling. That moment is one of his fondest memories, one he stored in that special place where it won't get lost.

Quite a few things have come and gone throughout the years of head damage and electroshock therapy the doctors at Arkham have always been so fond of using, but one can ever touch what's locked in _'the vault'_. That's a special place that even their highest voltage can't reach. It's harder to break into than any of the high-security mob banks he's made easy work of, whereas other criminals would've been fried on the ground from being electrocuted.

Part of him is disappointed to see how easily it was for him and the GCPD to force the Bat to retreat into the shadows... It's just not the same anymore if there isn't anyone with a brain to chase after him. What fun is it to come up with all these intricate schemes without a soul out there to throw a wildcard into the mix?

That's the only reason he even _let_ himself rot in Blackgate for the time being... If he wanted to, he could've gotten out easily, but then what? Rob a dirty bank? Rip off some mobsters? No. _No_. There's no excitement in that shit anymore. He only started doing that in the first place to get the mob's attention to the fact that their money was being traced, so he can push his plans into motion. Well… That, and he needed a new suit and some toys for his games. He could've gotten those things without money, but it was more interesting this way...

A cough from the hallway makes him jerk his head back up. _Yes._ His lip curls into a sneer, while he tries wrangling in the chaotic energy causing him to fidget and crack his knuckles. Waiting isn't a game he's particularly fond of but is sometimes a necessary evil. Patience can be his strong point occasionally that helps him stand back to watch the pieces fall into place or observe his pawns. However, this is _not_ one of those situations.

'Bout damn time...' A man hesitantly walks up to the bulletproof glass of his cell, standing there and looking around. It's smart to be cautious in these circumstances, especially when any buffoon can walk by at the wrong time. Not everyone follows their round time or they go down the _wrong_ hall on purpose and feign being forgetful if they're caught by the guards who _are_ supposed to be there.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Joker quickly pushes himself up to get onto his feet. Now's not the time to idle around. Striding over to the glass, he cocks his head to the side, giving the man in uniform an expectant look. When the guard doesn't move, he raises a brow in irritation. Screaming or threatening isn't something he can do here, without attracting attention from across the hall and that just won't do, not tonight. Shifting his jaw, he can feel the anticipation working its way through his body, making his level of patience decrease at a rapid speed. He coughs in his throat to signal the looming threat this man is bringing on himself if he doesn't hurry the fuck up.

"Here, Boss..." Looking around quickly, he slides a keycard through the hole in the glass, which the clown takes eagerly before there's a change in mind...but not from himself. _Nope_. There's no turning back now on this, he's had his crispy, little black heart set on it since the day he was brought in. Problem is, this moron can easily just walk away if he decides to, but it'll be signing his own death warrant. He knows this, yet sometimes when a man feels a bit empowered, he can become reckless and forget who's really in charge. Seeing his boss behind bulletproof glass can give a fleeting sense of comfort that can turn into arrogance.

"Did ya do it?" It seems this man is smarter than some of his other lackeys. There's the occasional disrespect or insubordination-_two things he doesn't put up with_-but he quickly nips it in the bud. Those foolish enough to try are used as examples to the rest and he's _very_ heavy-handed when it comes to making a point.

"Of course. You have about ten minutes before any of the other guards come around this block. I just finished in the control room. Everyone's busy in J-Block right now, so there isn't much time..." He moves closer and whispers, glancing around every so often with an anxious expression. Despite being a little smarter than the others, it seems he is becoming comfortable working here. The fact that he's worried about getting caught is proof of that. It doesn't matter, he's useful. That's the reason he chose him for this job, being the only one competent enough to pull it off.

"Then get the hell out of here and make sure no one sees you. Go back to your post and keep an eye out." If there are only ten minutes, the last thing he wants to do is waste it talking to this guy. The clown can use him later on in here, so there's no point in allowing him to get caught.

The bloodlust is raging inside of him, threatening to burst at the seams. It's been over a week and a half since he's hurt anyone, which is far too long. The act is like a drug he gets high from, but also help to release the malicious energy constantly building up inside of him. It's like a pressure on his soul that needs to be let out at regular intervals and that hasn't been happening recently. Without the straight jacket, he feels like the Tasmanian Devil, ready to let loose throughout the asylum.

The urge to break this man's neck is making him twitch, but he tries to suppress it in favor of another. There's someone else much more deserving of his attention right now. It hard to do and this guy's lucky he has some control over his baser-self. Not much, but it's better than none. Killing a guard is too conspicuous and it's not the kind of money wrench he was hoping for.

"Are...you _sure_ you want to do this now? What are you going to do?" The vein in the clown's forehead pulses in irritation. Who the hell does this guy think he is questioning him and wasting precious time? His hands flex at his side and it's all he can do to calm himself down.

"Go... _Now_..." The warning growl in his chest is enough to get his point across as guard's eyes widen and he takes a step back. It seems him having a bit of control in the asylum has given the fool the illusion he has some sort of power or influence. All he needs is a little reminder of who's really in control of everything...

Without another word, he turns away from the glass and rushes off. Only the echo of his steps down the hall remains. _Good_. At least he gets the point now.

A satisfied grin spreads across Joker's face as he looks down at the keycard. With this, nothing is out of his reach in this place_. Nothing..._ Licking his lips in anticipation, he bounds over to the furthest corner of the glass, guiding his arm through one of the holes. The control pad is close, but hard to reach from this angle.

Dark eyes roll up, trying to feel around for the little box that keeps the bulletproof glass in place. It's so easy from the outside, but no one would've thought about a patient being able to get to it from the inside. Otherwise, they wouldn't have kept it in reaching distance. _Over-confident fools_. His tongue sticks out and runs along the cracked skin of his scar as he becomes increasingly impatient. His fingers feel along the cool surface of the wall, trying to recall its exact location from the few times they let him out of his cage.

_'Tch...only nine minutes left.' _

Extending out his arms as far as his body will allow it, his brows pump excitedly when his fingertips bump into the small contraption on the wall. Without this part, the rest is useless. It's the only way of getting himself out of here at the moment.

_'Found it.'_

Now that he has the exact placement locked in, the rest will be a piece of cake. Pulling back and grabbing the keycard, he jams his arm back in, knowing how far to go and what angle he needs to bend his elbow in. A small beep sounds off when he smacks the small card against the control pad, signaling the doors are about to unlock.

Wrenching his arm out as fast as he can, the last thing he needs is to have it crushed if he gets stuck. Despite being a shameless man, even that one might embarrass him. The guards and witch will never let him live it down if someone has to get him out of the door. It moves fast, but the clown has always been quick on his feet. One second later and he just might've had regrets about conceiving this little idea.

Twisting the card between his fingers, his eyes light up when the glass moves. Joker's hands tremble at his sides, feeling a rush that's long eluded him. The last time he's felt this way, he was falling through the sky, after Batman threw him over a ledge. They were fighting on a building overlooking the ferries that were meant to blow. It was exhilarating soaring through the night air in Gotham, knowing it'll be the last thing he'd ever experience…only for that moron to save him.

_"Tch!" _There's no time to waste. According to the little timer in his head, there are only eight minutes left at this point. It really is a shame. He wants to enjoy this... Stepping out into the hall, the smile he's wearing pulls at the muscles in his face. It's so exciting... This is sad, even for him.

How can he-_of all people_-allow some small woman crawl under his skin, the way she does? It's his own fault for letting it happen. That only makes it all the more infuriating. Of all the taunting and name-calling he's heard throughout all these years, none of it pisses him off more than just a simple sentence or gesture from the pink-haired witch.

Despite finding himself starting to find entertainment in these little squabbles taking place more often, they always ended with him clawing at the glass with an overwhelming urge to break her neck. The condescending remarks, that playful smile on her lips while she traces the pale skin around her mouth to imitate his scars, the offhanded and confusing compliments with insults cleverly hidden in their meaning… They all piss him off to no end.

No one makes a fool out of the Joker. It doesn't matter if it's a slip of a woman or not. If someone gets away with disrespecting him, it'll give others the idea that they can do it as well. That just won't do.

Not. At. _All._..

The games he initiated keep getting turned around and aimed right at his head, like a pistol ready to blow his brains out. Usually, the control's in his hands, always having a clever or witty response to everything, but he becomes so angry, that she ends up getting the best of him. It isn't until after they stop talking that he'll think of a great comeback to what she said when it's already too late at that point.

A distraction, like Sakura, needs to be dealt with properly. No one's ever made him incapable of thinking clearly or unable to be a couple of steps ahead of everything. The extra time that should be used for coming up with new ideas to make this stay more interesting, keeps going to places he doesn't want to step foot in.

Despite trying to distract himself by working on more leeway around the asylum and the games with the foolish doctor, his mind always wanders to their conversations..._her insults_. Constantly wondering and theorizing what brought this person to a place like Arkham and what she's capable of. It's infuriating not knowing or being able to figure something out.

Is she just mentally disturbed? A criminal? Here by mistake? There are some rare cases of people being brought here to keep them quiet. The pull the top brass has over Gotham is insane in itself. There was an inmate here, during the Joker's last stay, that just happened to be a politician's unruly bastard son that was admitted just so the public didn't find out about him while his father ran for office. Nothing's off the table in this city. It's the heart of the cruel and unjust, that's why he stays.

Sauntering across the hall, his dark eyes look beyond the glass that's held him back all this time. It's the middle of the night and most of the block is sleeping for once, without the guards walking by and making noise. The only thing he can hear is muttering now and then. Guess it was a good idea to have his rat add a little something to the block's dinner. After all, he doesn't want an audience.

Pressing the keycard to the control box, the glass opens quickly with a beep. Slipping the card into the pocket of his orange jumpsuit, he shuffles into the small cell, trying to steady the erratic pounding in his chest from his heart dancing around merrily.

Sakura's on her back, sleeping peacefully on top of the sheets, without a care in the world. That pink hair is splayed across the rickety pillow and her lips are parted slightly, with little foggy breaths passing out into the chilly atmosphere. The asylum always creates a chill from the temperature being dropped low to keep the patients from spreading sicknesses to each other.

A small part of him wishes he made sure she didn't receive a dose the other inmates in D-block did. He wants to see those green eyes look up at him in terror while he chokes the life from them.

The first few times they spoke, the only emotions Joker saw in them were either emptiness or mirth, usually at his expense. He just wants to draw out those feelings that any normal person possesses. Anger, hatred, rage, fear... The most he's been able to get was annoyance. That was only a small victory, even as slight as it is.

Joker wanted to pull those out of her and prove they aren't as different as she makes them out to be. There's no doubt in his mind that this little woman believes she's above him... Perhaps the pinkette is from the way she's been able to control her emotional responses better than he can in her presence, but that doesn't matter.

They're both inmates at Arkham with their cells are right across from each other and beds on the _same_ level. Just like everyone else, they need to be escorted to the shower rooms and wait for their meals. Does she honestly think she's better than anyone else in that position?

_He'll show her they're not on the same level. _

The Joker is in a league of his own and the witch is no better than he is. Sakura will learn what a _real_ criminal is and the violence they're capable of. What does a little woman who swings her feet in the air, while reading a book on her stomach _actually_ know?

_Nothing._

Sitting there, flirting with the guards to get whatever she wants... Using her face and fake sweetness to manipulate those morons to bend to her whims. It's fucking disgusting to witness. If he didn't need his eyes, he would've already clawed them out by now. Having to watch this shit-show is enough to make _his_ stomach turn... That's a feat in itself, considering he's seen some pretty _nasty_ shit...

Standing in the cell, his eyes gloss over the books piled up against the wall. Anatomy, physiology, psychiatry, some ambiguous titles... The skank must really enjoy learning or completely bored. The clown begrudgingly admires that, since he spent copious amounts of time drinking in everything he could get his hands on, during a different lifetime.

_Knowledge is power, after all. _

Walking over to the bed, the clown stared down at the woman soundly sleeping. The bed creaks under his weigh when he sits down on the edge, next to her. It seems the drug everyone in the block consumed has already taken effect—_as expected. _She doesn't stir in the slightest from the movement or sounds of his heavy breathing.

Such a shame...

Watching the pinkette, she appears so peaceful, a complete contrast to the way she acts or speaks. His dark eyes roamed her face, knowing it will be the last time he'll have the opportunity to look at it before the guards have to wheel her body out.

For a woman, she has a good face. It's pretty... _Pretty annoying_.

Reaching down, the Clown Prince scoops up a lock of hair from off the pillow, twisting it between his fingers. It feels soft, like silk. The texture is at odds with his calloused digits, but the difference isn't as unpleasant as he imagined. It's curiosity that forces him to bring the long strands up towards his nose, something he normally wouldn't even _humor_ the idea of. They smell..._nice_. How strange for an incredibly nasty woman to have such a delicate appearance.

_'Guess that's the rub of it all...'_

Joker's own features convey _exactly_ what he is. Scarred up mouth, malicious smile, greasepaint accentuating the terrible state of his face. Unlike this woman, there's no chance of tricking others or denying what he truly is_. A monster_. This place is full of them, the same way Gotham is, no matter what the politicians try shoving down everyone's throats.

Knowing there isn't much time left, he shifts his jaw, staring down at the pinkette. Breaking her neck will be too fast and there aren't any knives around either. She has a pillow that can be used to suffocate her, but he wants to watch that pretty face during the act. It makes it all more _personal_. Someone capable of pushing him to this extent doesn't deserve a dog's death and should have some semblance of dignity-_whatever that is. _

He _has_ to do it... Otherwise, Zsasz will end up getting committing the act himself, sooner or later. People get to know a lot about others working in the underground of the city the longer they immerse themselves in it. Once Vicky sets his eyes on something or someone, they end up with their throats slit. He enjoys what he does, far more than anyone really should, but that's how it is. Afterward, the victims are always positioned in casual poses, like they're still alive.

Imagining Zsasz doing that to Sakura is making his blood boil. There's no way in hell that Joker will let that happen... If someone's going to kill the little vixen, it'll be him, and him _alone_. Sakura's been at the number one spot of his to-do list, since the day they brought him into the asylum.

The clown's free hand reaches up to feel along the raised, broken skin around his mouth. _His scars_... They're just a joke to her... _He_ is just a joke to her.

A deep growl rumbles through his chest as anger floods him. This woman tries to constantly make a mockery out of him... A man who strikes fear throughout the city with only a single playing card. The urge to tear the pink locks laced between his fingers straight out of her head is _very_ tempting.

Joker's hands tremble and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lips hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn't know _why_. Why not just get it over with already? She's laying there, fast asleep, and more vulnerable than ever. It will be one of the easiest kills, he won't even have to _try_. There are only six minutes left. If he doesn't do it now, there might not be another chance, before Victor has a go at it. He refuses to hand Sakura's life over to that fucking weirdo. As much as he despises her, the pinkette deserves better than _that_. This woman is his to mock, to hurt, to make suffer and cause misery every day to. She's also _his_ to kill.

_It's now or never. _

Letting the strands slip through his fingers, he licks the blood from his lip, reveling in the familiar taste on his tongue. This is what he needs to get him going.

Clenching his jaw tightly, his face twists with rage thinking about all the things that have been said between them. His mind wanders, grasping for anything that can help fuel the fire inside of him to do what's necessary. All the names people call him, the beatings, that night his face was carved into, the abandonment. The thumping in his chest was moving to pound against his eardrums, blocking everything else out. His pupils dilate, washing away any bits of brown that may have been left and turning his eyes into pitch-black tunnels that lead straight to hell.

Grunting as he lashes out, large hands wrap around her skinny neck, ready to extinguish any fire left in the body beneath him. The clown miserably fails to stop his limbs from shaking as he slowly applies more pressure on the pinkette's airway.

Green eyes suddenly pop open, startling him. There's no way she should be awake after consuming the heavy dose of sleeping medication added into food earlier. Her lips part, sucking in shallow breaths as her brows furrow. Instead of surprise or fear, there's a different emotion in them that he's having a hard time placing. Is it sadness? Disappointment?

The grip around her throat tightens while his heart rate sky-rockets. Sakura's awake... This only makes it that much sweeter, but like always, this woman's denying him the reactions he desires.

_"Dammit!"_ Joker yells and squeezes harder, waiting for the choking to start or her eyes to roll back. This is what he _wanted_, what he _waited_ for. It can take up to two minutes or more for most people to strangle someone properly, but he knows what he's doing. This isn't his first rodeo.

Dark eyes widen and his brows shoot up at the look on her face. It isn't one twisting in agony or turning red or blue, while she flails for oxygen. There's no fear or panic etched into her delicate features like he desperately wants to see. She's smiling... Sakura is _fucking_ smiling!

"You _bitch_!" Dirty nails dig deep into her skin as he shakes the pale neck in his grasp, making her head bobble back and forth. The uncertainty is gone when laughter assaults his ears, no longer caring anymore if he really wants to do this or not.

Roughly pushing her down against the bed with his hands still around her neck, Joker straddles the small body beneath him. He looms over her, trembling in anger. Is she even going to deny him a satisfying kill? Not going to show him that face everyone else makes? Isn't she terrified of dying? Or is it that she's just not afraid of him?

"What's wrong?" The pinkette whispers, her soft voice now raspy with the pressure against her airway. He shoves her harder against the pillow, leaning over her tiny body. _"Hmm?"_

Sakura grins up at him with those bright green eyes full of mirth. Is this mental case enjoying what he's doing? Her reaction is making this all the more _infuriating_. He'll just have to break that skinny, little neck of hers after all. His hands let go of her throat, tightly gripping the sides of her head, resolving himself to make it quick, before time is up. One fast, fluid movement with a harsh crack and it'll finally be over.

"Did you come to kill me, or fuck me? _Well?..._ Which is it clown-boy?" Joker freezes in mid-squeeze with his eyes wide as saucers, glaring down at her wildly. What the fuck did she just say? What the hell?

A gasp tears through his throat when he feels a hand grab his leg. When the smile fades from her face, he tries to jump back, to move away from this woman beneath him. The instincts he's always relied on are _screaming_ at him to take action, but something's _wrong_.

Warmth spreads from the spot her hand's touching, webbing out and crawling through his limbs. It's consuming in nature, hungry, and trying to swallow him whole. The strange sensation quickly shoots through the rest of his body, ensnaring him in a heated net that he can't escape from. He stares at her in shock, not knowing what to do as it wraps around his entire being, from the inside and working its way out.

It feels like he's been outside, trudging through the snow for hours on end. The wind is bitterly cold and unforgiving on his exposed skin. He needs to get away before he freezes to death. It bites at the tip of his nose and fingers, but there's nothing that will protect them. When he finally drags himself through the door, his steadfast goal is the shower, desperately wanting to thaw his body out. When the water runs and the steam fills up the small space, it's a little slice of heaven. The hot water is a shocking change from before, but a welcome one. It starts at his head and works all the way down to his toes, making him shiver in relief. What a wonderful feeling…

_'Fuck!'_

The heated waves are terribly calming and soothing, making him want to kill her more than ever before. It's foreign, something he's never felt in his lifetime, yet it's like his body recognizes what his mind's trying to reject. For most people, this might be enthralling, but panic overwhelms that feeling when he realizes his muscles _won't_ obey any commands.

Unable to brace himself, Joker falls forward on to his would-be victim. His face lands against the orange material of the jumpsuit covering her chest. Harsh breaths push through his nose from his futile struggle to move, forcing him to breath in the floral scent of the woman he's crushing against the bed. He hears a heavy sigh spilling from her lips before thin fingers start running through his faded hair.

"_Hah_..." Sakura roughly shoves him off her and it surprises him how easily she does it. He rolls onto his back against the bed, finding himself in the same position he found her just moments ago.

This didn't turn out the way it was supposed to. Not. At. _All_...

Joker desperately tries to curl his fingers, even his lips, but nothing is working. All he can manage is to move his eyes around and blink. He came here to kill her and now he's _completely_ paralyzed, unable to do anything to the woman he was about to murder. Now, it's him who's going to die instead.

If the clown could laugh, he would have. This is almost _too_ funny...

A really..._really_...bad joke.

Slim legs swing over his waist as she straddles him and those green eyes look down angrily. He can feel his heart racing at the sight of them. _There it is_... Even if it didn't go the way he planned, at least he drew something out of her. Instead of their usual bright and cheery appearance, dark emerald flashes down at him murderously. They are...absolutely _gorgeous_...

"You really are a moron, you know that?" If he could arch a brow, he would have. "If I said I'm not disappointed in you, that a big-ass lie... I _really_ am. You're just like everyone else! Whether it's Konoha or Gotham, all men are the fucking same!"

_'What the hell is she talking about? She really is crazy after all...' _

"I thought you might be a little different, a bit more..._interesting_. I've been wrong about people before and looks like I am once again. You're nothing more than a _normal_ man. A pathetic one at that!" Sakura bites out as she grabs his mouth, digging her fingers into the marred skin. His breath is hot against her palm, only able to smell her over the usual stench the halls of Arkham give off.

"This is _exactly_ what happens when you're nice to people! They sneak into your room and try to stab you in the back!" She grips his face hard, making sure he can't look anywhere else except at her. "What did you think that little bullshit in my food was going to do? _Hmm?_ Are you _that_ much of a coward? Can't take a little woman head-on?"

Joker glares as much as he can, waiting for the blood vessels in his eyes to pop at any moment. If he can manage to move his mouth, he could bite her hand off, or at least a finger.

Sakura smiles sweetly, taking her hand away from his mouth to coil it around his throat, shifting to lean forward. It's only natural that she'll kill him the same way he was about to end her. Part of him can't help finding it poetic in a way...

"Do you see what I can do? Can't move a muscle, can you?" The hold tightens around his airway, making it hard to breathe. "I could choke the life right out of your miserable body right now. That's what you were going to do to me, right? Or maybe I could break your neck… How does _that_ sound?"

This sucks... It really does. This isn't the way he hoped to go out... Maybe in the midst of a fight to the death with Batman. Perhaps getting caught up in an explosion of his own creation. Something that would make a mark. Not like this... Sitting under a woman he tried to kill, with her hands wrapped around his throat.

_'Actually... That doesn't sound too bad...'_

"_Hah_. I can do _whatever_ I want to you like this..." A smirk creeps across her face, making him far more worried than the murderous glare did from before. Thin fingers trace the length of his scars and down his neck, making his skin prickle with goosebumps from her warm touch. This woman really is the devil in disguise. "And there's _nothing_ you can do about it..."

Sakura's taunting him, making her point by grazing the tips of her fingers over his tan skin. The only thing he can manage is trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat from watching her. His head is propped up against her pillow, allowing him to see the hands running down his chest...

_'What the hell is she doing?' _

Dainty finger drew lazy circles along his pecs, trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen. Joker's breath hitches and he's completely confused, seething just under the surface, but unable to display it across his face.

_'Is she... Is she gonna molest me?' _

The thoughts in his mind become clouded as he stops trying to move, now more curious than angry. If she wants to kill him, nothing is stopping her. Not really... The clown may be a whole slew of terrible things, but he can confidently say a rapist isn't one of them. That's the only form of violence he hasn't dabbled in.

Now, the clown feels like he has more of an understanding of the reason the staff wrapped up those monstrosities she calls _hands_. They're _deadly_ weapons. Harold was a lucky bastard that all she did was hold onto his. If a single touch can do this much to a body, what else can she do? Actually... What did she _do_?

His heart's _hammering_ when she leans back, shifting her hips to straddle his thighs. Sakura tosses that long, pink hair over her shoulder and narrows her eyes on him with a grin _still_ plastered on her pretty face. This is un-_fucking_-believable, but there's something worse…much, _much_ worse. Something is stirring in his gut, maybe some sort of evil incarnate her power planted in there when it was taking over his body, but he was finding the image of her on top of him…_pleasing_.

_'What a witch…' _

Joker's breaths become harsh when her fingers ghost along his abdomen, stopping at the waist of his jumpsuit. Despite trying to think quickly of anything that can be done, the fog spreading across his mind is making it _increasingly_ difficult. Even if the guards came to save him, he's screwed anyway, because he's in the wrong cell...

Hands start massaging his hip bones and he strains to suck in the air her actions are ripping out of him. A small sliver of him considers that maybe—in some deep, _dark_ part of his mind—this isn't _so_ bad. The thought fills him with a sense of contempt for her and himself, as his heart hardens, turning cold and angry. Doing this against his will _and_ humiliating him in this way. The worst part is that she was right... There is _nothing_ he can do about it.

Yep, he's definitely about to be molested... No doubt about that one.

Sakura's pink lips part and she _groans_, watching him with a devious expression. The sound hits the center of his being, forcefully dragging him to a place he never wanted to go to before. He undoubtedly hates her, but it only increases with each passing second with her straddling him, looking like _that_. With the way she provocatively moves her hips, he can only hope that _everything_ on him is paralyzed right now. The images starting to run through his mind make him want to scream and tear his hair out from the roots to stop them. The only good part of this is that he can't form any facial expressions or noises. He won't give this witch the satisfaction of knowing this is getting to him.

"I really should thank you!" The pinkette's face brightens as she reaches into the pocket of his jumpsuit. He can feel her fingers fishing around, just grazing the spot that forces his eyes to flutter, internally saying every curse he can think of. One of her knuckles bumps into _him_ and it's sending him _reeling_. With a chuckle, she suddenly pulls out the keycard. "I _knew_ I could count on you... Hahaha!"

Joker stares unblinkingly at the woman as she waves the card around, his blood going cold. She didn't...

Kissing the small piece of plastic, she looks down at him with a sneer. "What's _wrong_? Don't tell me you were expecting that hand-job we talked about before?" Her laughter infuriates him as he desperately tries to fight against the hold on his body. Whatever spell she cast is strong and he can't move a muscle.

_'Bitch! You fucking bitch!'_

"Well… Only two minutes left until the guards come back. I guess it's time to tuck you back into your bed." With a giggle, she hops off of him, taking her warmth with her.

Unable to move his head, the Joker can't see what she was doing, but he feels the warm hands wrapping around his ankles. He's suddenly being dragged across the bed and he hopes she's not going to what he thinks she is. Those hopes are quickly dashed when the mattress is no longer supporting his weight. With a loud thud, his head smacks against the cold floor when she pulls him off with the strength a woman should never be able to possess. The clown's dark eyes instinctively water from the pain shooting through his skull. There was no way of bracing himself from his dead weight landing on the hard surface.

He's on his back, being yanked across the floor, like a heavy sack of potatoes. All Joker can do stare straight up at the dingy ceiling with his arms hanging loose above his head, while she drags him behind her. They go out of her cell and through the hallway into his.

"Do me and yourself a favor... Don't try to kill me again. This is what happens when you're a _bad_ boy. You get hurt. I could've killed you, but _I didn't_." Sakura's voice is soft as she warns him when they cross the threshold of his living quarters. When she stops a few feet in, he wonders if the pinkette is going to leave him on the floor for the guards to find.

Small hands grab the front of his jumpsuit and before he knows what's going on, he's being lifted off the ground. He can't believe this is happening. How can a tiny woman hoist him up, like he's nothing? The last time anyone picked him up _might've_ been when he was a child, maybe. When she throws him against the wall, the air is knocked right out of his lungs, like a steel pipe to the ribs. He can't move anything, but he can _feel_ everything.

"Just food for thought..."

Joker drops to the bed, landing on his side. His body's on fire from the impact and the way she's manhandling him. Is this person _really_ a woman?

His dark can see her again when she rolls him over and he wants nothing more than to rip her face off. This can't last too long... He just needs to keep trying to move and eventually, the feeling should come back… _Right?_ When it does...

_Hoo boy…_

Pink hair falls over her face as she positions him in the bed, gently moving his limp limbs around to her liking. Is she really doing this? _After all that?_ Despite being paralyzed, he can feel every touch while she shifts his legs and arms in to a comfortable spot. It's mind-boggling trying to comprehend what's truly wrong with her. He just tried to kill this woman...and she's fucking _tucking_ him into bed, like a little boy.

Grabbing the blanket bunched up at the end of the bed, the pinkette pulls it up and over him, stopping when it reaches his shoulders. If his eyes weren't bloodshot in her cell, they definitely are now.

Clicking her tongue, she gingerly sits on the edge of the mattress, right beside him. He can just see down to her collarbones poking out over the jumpsuit by shifting his gaze to the left. She leans in closer, reaching forward to run her fingers through his wavy hair. If he didn't have the urge to tear into the offending hand, he might've thought the way her nails trail across his scalp felt…_nice_?

The expression on her face is confusing...almost alarming. Instead of hatred or malice, even anger, they just look sad. It making his stomach turn and he's not entirely sure why or what it means. He's usually quite perceptive when it comes to people's emotion-_excluding himself_-but he can't get a grasp on hers.

_'Is this bitch pitying me?'_

Her hand slowly pulls back and gently moves the messy hair away from his face. She's insufferable and puzzles him to no end, throwing him through a loop at every given chance. Why does he let this shit happen to himself? Even when he tries to take care of the problem, it came right back to bite him in the ass.

_'If I could at least bite a finger off...'_

"_Stop_. Just stop it..." Sakura's voice is barely above a whisper, but he can hear it. "I don't want to hurt you, but you're not leaving me a choice. You see... We really _aren't_ that different." Joker's rage is bouncing around his insides from her spitting back the words he used on her before.

She runs her hand through his hair one more time in _almost_ a 'loving' manner, before reaching down and taking his chin in her grasp. Her thumbs trace the scars around his mouth while those green eyes watch him intently.

He's never felt so angry and confused in his life...

Leaning in, she presses her lips against his, sending a shock wave throughout the clown's entire system. It was just as tender as the way she ran her fingers through his hair, but there is something else there and he doesn't like it. Joker despises things he can't understand and this happens to be one of them. Her lips are soft and full, nothing like his own and he can't help noticing the difference. It's a strange sensation that's spreading through him that he attributes to her spell, that wicked magic she wields. His heart is pounding so fast, he wonders if it'll stop at any second from being overworked.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to play out…

Sakura breaks away from his lips, staring down at him while she feels the dark, jagged marks around his mouth with her fingertips. His chest stutters from the breaths forcing themselves out, still unable to move a muscle.

"There... You got that goodnight kiss you asked for, even if it isn't from the person you wanted it from." Her brows raise as she tilts her head to the side. "I have to go. The guards will be here any minute now. Do try to be a good boy, now... 'Kay, _handsome?_ Sayonara!" With a peck on the forehead, she's out of his line of sight in seconds.

The beep coming from across the cell and the whoosh from the glass doors tell him that she's locking him back up and is on the way to her own.

Staring up at the ceiling, he's _completely_ dumbfounded. Did that just really happen? What did it mean? Why did she do that?

This isn't the kind of wildcard the Joker had in mind... This game has taken a dangerous turn and not in the way he expected. The guards should've been finding her body lifeless in bed while he comfortably sits in his own cell, watching the havoc from across the hall and feeling _victorious_. That woman... _No_. What is she? A man? A beast? The strength in that little body is ridiculous. She tossed _him_ against the wall, like a rag doll, without a second thought or using little effort.

_'And they call me a monster...'_

The rage inside him almost can't be contained from what that animal just did to him. Not only did she paralyze him, but then toyed around, doing things she had no business even trying. Mocking him, touching his body, making him feel hot and bothered when he didn't want to... Stealing the keycard _he_ worked to get. The clown doesn't know which offense is worse, but karma's a bitch.

Why didn't she kill him? Just to keep playing this little game of theirs? Perhaps it's true that she only sees him as a clown to entertain her in this boring place.

Worst of all... The pinkette had the balls to touch his _scars_. No one... _No one_ touches his fucking scars. The last person to touch that spot is the one who gave them to him.

Joker never feels embarrassed, not about anything. It would take _a lot_ to drag that out of him. Yet here he is, absolutely _humiliated_. The clown can't recall the last time he's felt this way, if he ever has at all.

That damn woman... He'll have to step his game up if he's going to kill her.

**_"You see... We really aren't that different."_**

If the Joker could scoff, it would be right now. How dare she throw his own lines back at him... As if she actually means it.

Boots stomp through the halls, signaling the guards return from whatever distraction his boy caused. Instead of them returning and finding a corpse with his laughter bouncing off the walls, he can only stare at the ceiling…stuck in his thoughts.

_'I hate her...'_


	7. Confusion

This is nothing short of a living hell...

"Hey... What's wrong with the clown?" He knows that voice... Jerry? Yep, the newbie.

A handful of guards are standing at the bulletproof glass, jeering and taunting, not realizing the situation at hand. They're assuming that he's just ignoring them or truly went off the deep-end this time.

"_Heh_. Bastard hasn't moved a muscle in hours... Not sure if he's fucking with us or maybe had a stroke, but I don't think we're _that_ lucky." That one he knows for sure. The pink-haired witch's pet buffoon, _Harold_.

Joker can't believe his luck. It's been eight hours and still...nothing. What's going to happen now? Is this permanent? Does that succubus need to do something to take the spell off? If that's the case, he's really shit out of luck.

Even if she wants to, which he highly doubts she does, how would she get to his cell _without_ the guards going crazy? The pinkette has the stolen keycard, but there are still too many obstacles, until nightfall. It's not like he'll be able to get his goon to help in any way. How can he, when nothing works? There's no way of communicating what's wrong or finding out what _can_ be done. He can't even ask the witch how to break the spell.

_'This is so...fucked.'_

The guards already notice something's off, that he's not acting like his usual self. Instead of following protocol or doing anything typical staff _should_ do, they're just standing right outside of the bulletproof glass, happily enjoying the show…or lack of. Jeering and howling at him, like he really is some clown in the circus.

**_"I'll have to thank Dr. Arkham for sending a _**_**clown**_**_ to entertain me... It's been getting pretty boring recently_****... _Heheh__!"_** Is this everything the witch was hoping for? To make a mockery out of the 'Clown Prince of Crime', and show the world he's nothing more than a two-bit thug? That a woman less than half his size can turn him into a useless heap, while her pets throw rocks at him.

"Should we... get a doctor? Something might be wrong with him." One of the guards suggest and it's the first time anyone out of the group even _mentions_ lifting a finger to help. It's about damn time…

_'There ya go, Jerry! Finally using that empty noggin of yours!'_

"Don't be a fucking baby... Let the bastard rot, as he deserves. Not making any jokes now? Huh, _funny man_?" The loud banging on the glass is more than irritating already. The clown's killed guards for _much_ less. How many times is that in the last thirty minutes? He lost count a while ago.

If only he can move...even just talk. Boy, the things he'd say to them... They'd probably beat him to death for it, but at this point, it's better than this.

For the first time in many years, Joker _almost_ regrets what he tried to do. Instead of getting sentimental about the kill, he should've broken that bitch's neck when he had the chance. _Nope._ It just had to turn into a production with him trying to drink in all the details, to commit the images to memory, and store them into 'the vault'. This is what he gets for being greedy…

He seriously _underestimated_ that woman. If that's what she actually is... _No_. She's definitely _all_ woman, there's no doubt about it. When he dropped on her, his face landed right up against her chest and when she straddled his thighs, there weren't any extra parts in that warm area. Yep, Sakura's a chick. A freaky one, but still one. That witch… Not only did she paralyze him, but also stole the key card he worked to get.

**_"I really should thank you!" _**

If he could scream or growl, he'd be doing it this very minute... Sakura anticipated and predicted his actions, which in itself is completely intolerable. Using him to get what she wants and making a laughing-stock out of one of the most infamous criminals in all of Gotham.

**_"Did you come to kill me, or fuck me? Well?... Which is it clown-boy?" _**

He's pathetic to let such a small woman do this to him. It's..._disgraceful_. The only saving grace is that no one else seen it. The pinkette doesn't seem like the type to go around bragging, which is a plus. She'd only be outing herself, anyway.

Despite his plans being horrendously foiled, for the time being, there's no denying this makes things more interesting... To do so little, yet reel in such big results. If he didn't hate that woman's guts, she would've made an excellent addition to his group outside of the asylum.

The people he typically recruits are either mentally disturbed or just muscle-heads. Sakura's clearly both, yet also possesses a functioning brain somewhere beneath that pink hair. It's intriguing... What else can she do? What even happened?

He has to find out, one way or another. The pinkette's too tight-lipped to reveal anything substantial. The next best option is the doctor. _Harleen Quinzel_. The person who holds that woman's file and has been her psychiatrist for the last year.

**_"I don't want to hurt you, but you're not leaving me a choice. You see... We really _**_**aren't**_**_ that different." _**

If there's a way for the Joker to destroy this demoness, he needs to find out as much information as possible. That's the mistake that led to his current predicament... He was far too hasty and didn't take precautions. This wasn't planned properly, which isn't like him.

From what he's seen, there is little doubt that Victor Zsasz will succeed in murdering Sakura before him. No way... If anyone's going to kill her, it'll be the clown himself. Just in case, he'll keep an eye on the situation and ensure that nothing happens to her until he's ready.

This little game just got more interesting... It's exciting! No one's ever shamed him like this, not since becoming the Joker. What a funny world they live in. When a person thinks they have all the pieces to a puzzle and are close to completing it, someone comes in and smashes the table, scattering everything to hell. Life can be hilariously unpredictable, just like that woman.

**_"Do me and yourself a favor... Don't try to kill me again. This is what happens when you're a _**_**bad**_**_ boy. You get hurt. I could've killed you, but _**_**I didn't**_**_."_**

It's not clear whether this is just for entertainment or if he interests her for some ungodly reason. That can be the advantage. Even when it doesn't seem like it, the pinkette is listening _and_ paying attention to him. That became obvious when she intervened during the blonde's unwarranted visit.

If Sakura wants a _good_ boy to tuck in, that's what she'll get. When she drops her guard down and lets him in, that will be the moment to make a move. He'll hit her where it hurts the most, then end her sorry existence. That witch will regret everything that's been said and done...

_'HAHAHAAA!' _

If only he could laugh out loud...

A loud beep catches the Joker's attention, knowing one of the guards is opening the cell. There weren't any other footsteps echoing up or down the hallway, so no one's been called or bringing a gurney. That can only mean one thing…

"What if he's just screwing around, waiting for someone to come in to pull some shit? I don't think it's a good idea..." The ginger guard, Derek, is here too. When he's with Harold, they really bring out the worst in each other. A tag-team from hell for anyone in Arkham. Number 2 and 3 on the clown's to-do list.

"I doubt it. Even so, it's three on one. What can he do? Haha..." Joker can hear Harold laughing, knowing _for sure_ what's going on now.

_'Heh. Rip your fucking faces off, that's what. I've had a lot, ah, _worse_ odds than that before._

There's nothing the Joker could do. He knew what was going to happen as soon as they realized this isn't a trick. All the anger they have towards him, all the things that have been said and done are going to come crashing down on his body.

If only that witch hadn't done this to him. If only he didn't go into her cell... This is _hilarious_. The urge to laugh is overwhelming! _Go ahead_. They can beat him to their heart's content. Nothing can hurt him...not anymore.

Joker is used to pain and has endured every single form of it that's ever been conceived. What can they do, that hasn't already been done? Unfortunately for the men coming into his cell, he _likes_ it. The sensation in itself is divine and breathes life into an otherwise dead body. Besides a good blade, there's nothing in this world that is more beautiful in its most raw form, than _pain_.

The pressure against his side is definitely a baton poking him. They're testing their little theory out. The Joker isn't the kind of man that would normally lay there and let someone willing do this to him. On an average day, the guards are usually too scared to even step foot in this area, afraid of what might happen. They have every reason to be, especially taking his past stays into account.

From the corner of his dark eye, he can see them. Harold's standing there with a splotch of red, that is undoubtedly the top of Derek's head. The dark-haired man is sneering down at him with a gleeful look on his face.

_'I wanna peel that ugly face right off. Just you wait, fucker. You and your little red dog too.' _

"What's wrong? You really just gonna lay there, _freak_?" The clown internally groans at the word. Can't they come up with something better by now? That's all they ever say, whether it's in here or out on the streets. How many times has he heard it by this point?

"_Well? _Cat got your tongue?" They're laughing, enjoying the temporary freedom these morons think they have to do whatever they please. If they were outside of these walls, it would be the Joker who's laughing hysterically.

These men think they're _so_ big in their little uniforms with those nightsticks. Damn buffoons that thoroughly relish in having control over people they believe are completely beneath them. Thinking they're better because the inmates have committed crimes or are mentally unstable. It's a shame they don't realize how thin the veil is between being on one side of the glass or the other.

"See? I told you! He can't do shit. Guess he bit off more than he could chew, huh? Isn't that right?" The condescending tone is making Joker want to rip the bastard's tongue out and he can do it too if he could move. It wouldn't be the first time, so he knows how to do it as painfully as possible, without killing him right away.

The words the guard chose are curious… Does he know what happened? Has he seen Sakura do this before? Perhaps he knows more about her spells and witchcraft than he let on or looked into it. The clown wants to tie him to a chair and make him spills the beans, but that doesn't seem feasible for the time being. _Unless_… Did she say something to him?

_'No. Sakura didn't say anything. She isn't the type... He must be making assumptions. She wouldn't do that...'_

Before he can think more about it, something heavy crashes against his face, making the vein in his forehead pulse. Right away, it comes back and hits him again with more force. Something warm is running down his forehead and leaking from his nose. It's trailing over his lips and chin, dripping down and dotting the exposed tan skin his jumpsuit isn't covering. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what it is.

_Blood. _

They must have busted his nose... It doesn't hurt but sure is annoying. The way Sakura yanked him across the floor and slammed him against the wall last night hurt a little, but this? Fucking nothing...

"Harold! I _don't_ think this is a good idea!" Jerry hissed, hanging back and out of the clown's field of vision. If he thinks not joining in is going to help him, he's sadly mistaken. If a person commits a murder and someone stands there and watches, without intervening, they become an accessory to the crime and receive charges as well. Joker knows his rights and the law, it's important in understanding the enemy-_the system_-and being aware of what he's dealing with.

"Christ, Jerry..." Harold spits in annoyance, frustrated with the buzz-kill trying to reason with him. If the buffoon's smart, which he's not, he'd listen and back away. That's not going to happen and everyone in the small cell knows it.

"Okay, man... Derek and I have been working here for a _while_ now. We're tryin' to show you the ropes and help you out, so listen well. You need to show the inmates who's boss around here. Otherwise, they'll end up shankin' you with something. Is that what you want?" Another swing comes down, this time for the jaw. The last thing the clown needs is to have it wired-shut from these bimbos. Wouldn't that be funny? When he finally regains control of his body, he can't talk from his jaw being damaged.

"N-No..." Jerry stutters out, making the other men chuckle. Even the Joker wants to shake his head at the newbie.

_'What a puss...'_

"Then you need to start taking action. Get before you're got. Make them afraid or they'll think you're a joke, just like this bastard. Do you see him laughing now?" He grins maliciously, smacking the side of the clown's face. The skin is split and weeping blood, running down, and decorating his clavicles.

Oh, but he _is_ laughing… Laughing hysterically on the inside.

_"Harold..."_ The nightstick stops right in front of the clown's face as the man freezes. He can hear the guard swallowing hard, while his grip tightens on the weapon.

Joker internally groans at the sound of that soft chime. What's she up to now? He can see the guard turning around quickly to answer his master's call. So _pathetic_...

"What's wrong, Sakura?" For fuck's sake… If he could throw up, he would... Maybe not. He'd probably end up choke to death on it at this point.

"Harold… Everyone knows that you never start with the head." The pinkette's voice is quiet, but he can hear the chuckle at the end. They're all laughing now... He's just one big joke to them.

"Is that right? Haha! I should have known better. How..._thoughtless_ of me." With that, the buffoon turns back with a shit-eating grin on his face. The master has given her approval and now he's _more_ than happy to continue his work.

_'That bitch...'_

When the arm rises and aims for his torso, Joker closes his eyes, already bored of this little beating they're giving him. Until someone has the balls to pull out a knife or maybe a gun, this isn't interesting enough to get him going. These men aren't creative enough to get his adrenaline pumping. There's no ingenuity behind their actions or any sort of mystery. They're not like Sakura, who constantly surprises him at every turn. Unless they give the pinkette the nightstick and let her come into the cell, he couldn't care less.

"Harold!" The voice is more urgent, making the clown roll his eyes around in interest. As expected, the guard stops when the soft voice calls out to him. Turning around, the nightstick is still in position, ready to crack some ribs or rupture something he probably needs.

"I need a shower. I feel _dirty_... Can you guys take me to the shower room? _Please?"_ Joker is surprised once again. What is she doing? He can feel his eyebrows shoot up in his confusion.

_'Ah!' _

His brow moved... Even if it is only a little, that's better than nothing. Is the paralysis finally starting to wear off? Despite it only being the muscles above his sockets, it's still _something_. Now he can at least make some sort of expression.

"Sure... Just let me fin-"

"I need to go _now_. Like, right _now_." What's this bitch up to? Wasn't she the one who just gave the guards some advice on how to beat him properly? Where they should and shouldn't start?

Harold turns back with his face twisting in confliction and different emotions filtering through his expressions. Is he debating on whether he wants to stay and beat the Joker to a bloody pulp or go to watch his beloved inmate naked in the shower?

_'Disgusting...'_

Deciding he'd rather get a show, Harold smiles and rams the baton into his ribs. Glancing up at the guard, Joker pumps his brows and relishes how the man's eyes widen in shock.

"L-Let's go. _Now!"_ The guards jump back out of the clown's view and he can hear them shuffling out of the cell in a hurry. They must've been afraid that it really is a trick and he's about to lunge off the bed any moment.

_'HAHAHAHAAA!' _

Morons...They literally could've beaten him to death and there's nothing he can do to stop them... For now.

Moving his eyebrows around, he tries to experimentally shift anything else. Even if it's not much for now, maybe the more he works at it, the closer he'll be to her spell wearing off. Unless this is a time-related situation?

One thing the Joker can't fathom is why she stopped them. What reason does she have to say anything? After all, isn't she the one who did this to him in the first place? Doesn't she want to punish him for trying to kill her? Is she worried their game might be cut short?

This is confusing...

Sakura lied to the guards and is now on her way to bare it all for the guard's entertainment…just to stop them from beating him. She just took a shower barely sixteen hours ago. Aside from seeing the psychiatrist, the inmates sit in their cells all day. What would make her dirty enough that she needs to go to the shower room so desperately?

The asylum's cold 24/7, so sweating isn't much of an issue. Their little debacle last night is the only thing that happened and she did it effortlessly. She could've had one earlier if that's the issue.

_'Bitch...'_

Is Sakura pitying him..._again?_ Does she think he can't handle this? Is that it?

This is annoying, infuriatingly so. He's stuck in bed with blood running down his face and she's on her way to get undressed for the guards to keep them preoccupied from smashing him any further into the mattress. This is..._completely fucked. _

The Joker's upper lip twitches as a snarl forces its way out.

* * *

_"Hahh..."_ The hot water feels soothing as it runs over her pink hair and tired body, coercing the tense muscles in her shoulders to relax.

_'Of course...'_

It was only going to be a matter of time until that stupid clown pulled some half-baked scheme to kill her. If it was any other patient, they would've been dead long before reaching the edge of her bed.

Sakura isn't scared... No way. These people don't frighten her in the slightest, not after what she's been through.

There are things out there to _truly _fear...

The people in this city aren't anything to fret over. Sure, some are smart and conniving, but nothing she hasn't seen before. The newspapers and television stations tell of stories about the _monsters_ lurking in the dark alleyways of Gotham. About how people should try to stay safe and not go out at night...

They don't know the first thing about monsters... Not _real_ ones...

None of them know what's really out there...What horrors they can commit. Not robbing banks, or blowing up buildings, or letting out a gas that incited fear. That's nothing and can be dealt with, even prevented, if they just use their brains.

These people don't have a single clue about what's on the other side. What a single person or a small group can _really_ do. It seems like the worst thing in this world is the threat of nuclear warfare and apparently, it hasn't been used in decades. The threat of it is enough to keep countries in line.

What would they do if someone was capable of doing something similar with just the energy in their bodies? Without science and long preparation? Without needing materials and people to make it happen?

They don't know true _fear_... They don't know real _pain_...

This world is so..._trivial_. Violent gang wars break out in the streets over substances that impair the human body. They kill each other over paper with an imaginary value set by their governments. Riots commence over a criminal making a threat, instead of working together to fix the situation. The authorities lock-up these 'supervillains', knowing damn well they'll just escape, instead of neutralizing the threat...even when it ends up costing dozens of innocent lives in the process.

This is madness, but she's the crazy one?

Back in Konohagakure, if someone betrayed the village and killed people on a whim, a team would be sent out to end the rampage, without a second thought. Their leaders take responsibility for the criminal's actions by _stopping_ them and _preventing_ any more harm that might come.

Gotham is different... The "police" are typically ineffective in doing their jobs and only show up long after the perpetrator already escaped, just to file a report. The shining light in this city, the beacon of their "justice", is a man who dresses up as a bat. He swings around, beating criminals to a pulp and delivering them to the useless men who can't lift a finger to stop anything.

After a hearing that's just a public spectacle, the person is confined to a building with even more useless officers, that are easily tricked. The criminal ends up breaking out, then the rampage starts _all_ over again. It's a vicious cycle of madness that never seems to end. The worst part is that dozens-_sometimes hundreds_-of people wind up becoming caught up as the wheel turns, getting crushed in the process.

It would be easier to put them to death. _Eye for an eye_... Death would be met with death, stopping the cycle that never ends. Apparently, this isn't the "right" kind of thinking in this world. Of course, every situation is different, but there needs to be _someone_ willing to make tough decisions.

Tsunade-sama would never allow people from Konohagakure to ruthlessly murder and destroy the village, then repeatedly give them the chance to do it again. If it was her in that position, the offender's body would be left in a crater, _after_ she smashed them into nothingness.

_'Tsunade-sama...' _

Just thinking about shishou makes her chest tighten. These days, Sakura tries to push those thoughts and images away into a dark corner of her mind. It's the only way to make the pain less unbearable.

The only bright side to all of this is that her teacher can't see her in this position now... Locked-up in a dirty building, where every need has to be met with the assistance of brainless fools. Sitting in a box all day with a sheet of glass being used as a door. Standing in a filthy shower with men gawking and staring, while she tries to clean herself. Allowing a man who tried to kill her to live, instead of beating him to death. It's shameful...

_'This isn't Konohagakure...and shishou isn't here.'_

It's not that she hasn't considered it. Kami-sama, it's been _very_ tempting... Ending that strange man would've been a simple task.

_'Joker...'_

_What a name_. It's clearly a criminal alias, not that it matters. That's what he prefers to be called. After all, Pein wasn't Nagato's real name, but that's a different story.

It was amusing to witness Harold and Derek dragging him down the halls of D-block and tossing him behind the glass in a hurry. They were scared, like the clown was going to pull a knife out of his ass or something. His arms were bound to his chest and he wasn't in any condition to do much else. If they understood the human body and what to look for, they would've realized that. That man doesn't have chakra or anything, so what's there to be afraid of?

The 'Clown Prince of Crime' looks much different than in the papers Harold gave her. Without all the greasepaint and theatrics, he's like any other man. Perhaps it's the scars around his mouth that scare them so most. _How superficial_... All the scars meant is that someone got the better of him. They aren't even _that_ bad. Kami knows she's seen some _real_ scars while being a medic and kunoichi.

Behind the greasepaint and dye, that man isn't bad-looking. It's a shame that his personality and mannerisms ruin any redeeming qualities he might've had.

Sakura learned long ago not to judge a person based off their appearance. That's a lesson they teach _children_ in the academy, right off the bat. Something that seems trivial, can end up being the difference between life and death, or failing a mission. _Never_ underestimate or assume anything from a person's physical appearance or stature. Half of the time in shinobi lands, what someone sees isn't even a true form and can be an illusion from a jutsu. It's a funny thought that such a simple concept is taught to the young from her world, yet it's something the adults can't grasp in this one.

If the pinkette said the Joker didn't interest her, that would be a lie... With nothing else to do when sitting in her cell, she reads the newspapers when the books aren't enough—_which they're usually not_. Staying up to date with what's going on in the outside world is important. Knowledge _is_ power. Information-gathering is also taught at a young age. There are shinobi who don't possess physical prowess but are useful in that aspect.

Not all tools work the same, yet come in handy at some point.

How often are there articles and snippets about the clown all over the place? Sakura can't count how many times she's seen that grinning, greasepainted face gracing the pages, along with a lengthy review of his latest actions. He seems to be quite infamous in this land, not that it's anything to brag about... The authority in this region is inept to the _highest_ degree.

What she finds interesting is his actions and the results from them. Who blows up a hospital, yet kills no one in the explosion? What kind of man is hired by the mob to take out a vigilante, yet not only _doesn't_ do it but then takes the gang's money just burn it? That last act left the organization bankrupt and without a leg to stand on. Not only that, but out of the four largest mob families, he killed three of the head bosses and the last is missing. Gambol, Lau, and the Chechen... They hired the Joker after _he_ offered his services and instead of doing the job, he completely disrupts the hierarchy of the criminal underground that's been tormenting the city.

The clown storms into a fundraiser with the intent to supposedly kill the District Attorney yet leaves without harming anyone. He could've blown the place up or shot everyone... It would've been easy to kill that man with the stealthy tactics he used on others-like the Commissioner-yet didn't.

_'Some of those murders were quite impressive. He might've made a good shinobi in another life.'_

He rigs two ferries with explosives, giving each boat the detonator for the opposite one, telling the people on them _they_ have to choose which survives. One boat was full of convicts, the other with _'normal'_ citizens. Of course, most will say the criminals should die and the wonderful, innocent people that did absolutely nothing wrong should walk free. The incident forced everyone involved to weigh the cost of human life and reevaluate who deserves to live and die.

It was..._beautiful_. What a way to get a point across and with such _style_. That man sure has a flair for theatrics.

Gotham is the type of place where the rich and working class are seen as valuable, while the poor and sick deemed useless. What makes a businessman's life worth more than a person who steals to feed their family, so they don't starve? Why is a government official more important, than someone that's sick and needs care? How can a millionaire's lie be held in higher regard compared to a homeless man's truth, when he witnessed the former committing a crime? Who determines the weight of human life and a person's worth?

In this city, money and power are _everything_. If a person has either, they can get away with murder..._literally_. They will receive the best care, have the best things and nothing is out of reach. There's an enormous gap between social classes... The have and have-nots. _The Narrows_ is the perfect example to show this discrepancy. In certain areas, people are starving to death that can't find a job, no matter how hard they try. Children left in dirty clothes, without proper education. Women forced to sell their bodies to make ends meet or from fear of being punished by the ones who sell them. Men that beat each other bloody for a few bucks... Yet, no one's doing _anything_ about this.

In Konohagakure, everyone tries their best to help each other. There aren't prostitutes begging for someone to sleep with them out of fear of not bringing their pimp back enough money. They don't have starving people in the alleys, waiting for an unsuspecting person to walk by to steal whatever they have on them. No one's begging for some cash just to get a few lines or littering the streets with drug baggies and trash.

There's an academy that _all_ children have the chance to attend to receive education and learn the ways of the shinobi. There are jobs for everyone, so no one has to go without. Clans that take care of their own... Places to get food or healed, even if they don't have "health insurance". The Hokage does their best to settle any complaints or discrepancies within the village and outside of it as well. There's a council that makes sure everything runs the way it was intended to. Shinobi can take as many missions as they need, so their families were provided for... If someone goes without, no one can be blamed, except for themselves.

_'That is...until the wars started.' _

Shaking her head, Sakura didn't want to go back to those thoughts again... No. That was then, this is now. There's enough on her plate as it is, without treading down memory lane. It's better to focus on what's going on, than shit she can't do anything about at the moment.

_'That clown…'_

It was surprising and interesting to follow the actions of the Joker, while he caused havoc across the city. Everyone carries on about how _insane_ he is... How _truly_ evil that man can be. They clearly aren't reading the same articles.

There's no doubt that the clown is unstable and ruthless. That's a given... He's done some terrible things and killed lots of people along the way. However, sometimes a person needs to crack a few eggs to make an omelet. _Right? _Whether it was intentional or not, the Joker has completely changed the city. For the better or worse is up for debate, depending on who's speaking.

Late Commissioner Loeb had been in office for _years_ and was been killed by a substance the clown put in his liquor bottle in his office. Why did he even have one there in the first place? Rumor has it that he's a closet-drinker, but it's not a secret that his policies were ineffective and _very_ unpopular. A useless man that wasn't willing to go after the real problems plaguing this city. After his death, Jim Gordon, who's known to be one of the best and most incorruptible, ended up replacing him. Someone that is dedicated to saving the city he lives in... He put his life on the line to try capturing the Joker, despite knowing it could've resulted in his own death and almost did… Gotham needs a person like _that_, not Loeb.

The clown ruined the mob families that have been causing the majority of crime throughout the city for _decades_. The murder of Brian Douglas swayed others from taking justice into their own hands and becoming vigilantes. His actions forced handfuls of corrupt police out of hiding, unable to conceal their true alliance. The Batman went into hiding, after the death of District Attorney Harvey Dent a few months ago. His disappearance is helping to bring an end to the constant 'Cold War' between criminals and the law, for the most part. Everything started escalating after the Bat started his shit over a year ago, and Sakura can say that confidently from watching from the sidelines, through new outlets.

After the Joker was arrested while hanging off the Prewitt Building—_where the Bat had left him_—the crime rate in the city has gone down _tremendously_... The mafia no longer has the means to dig their claws into every corner of Gotham. They're unable to resume their previous agenda without the billions of dollars that were turned into ash. No men are swinging around in costumes, beating up people. The police's actions are watched far more closely, with them getting reprimanded or terminated from their positions when it's called for. More effective people are being elected into office.

Despite what the Joker's intent was, his actions have changed Gotham... Maybe he is a murderous psychopath running around in greasepaint and eccentric clothing, but he's done more for this city in a few weeks than Batman has in over a year. The Bat's only made little headway in the underground, beating up small-timers and drug dealers, during the nights. The biggest feat he's accomplished is capturing Falcone during a drug sting, just for him to be replaced by Maroni and the Chechen. He isn't taking care of the _real_ problem, which the Joker accomplished with ease. The mob's source of power comes from money... Lots and lots of money... They can't buy weapons or men without it. If they neither of those, then what do they have? Instead of taking all the cash for himself, the clown chose to torch the whole thing.

It doesn't make sense to Sakura. If he is what people claim, then nothing adds up. The Joker is definitely mad, but there's a _method_ to that _madness_.

That's what catches her interest. What a strange man to do such odd things. He commits heinous acts that ended up with good results in the long run. The banks he robbed were run by the mob. The money he stole was dirty. It's _very_ intriguing.

When Harold sadly informed her that he was going to be placed in the cell across the hall, she wasn't afraid or freaking out, as he expected. Ranting and raving with forewarnings, it was quite annoying. What does she have to be afraid of? That man is no Pein, or, Madara, and definitely not Kaguya. The Joker is a clown in greasepaint that she can't determine whether he's a bad guy or not. Anyone clever doesn't take things at face value. He's more than likely just a product of the environment and mental instability.

Even if he _can_ be handsome when they clean him up, it's not like he's a Sasuke-

_'Dammit!' _

Just imagining the Uchiha's face sends her blood _boiling_...

Grabbing the flimsy bottle of shampoo, Sakura pours watery liquid onto her palm to lather it up. Running nimble fingers through the pink locks, she tries scrubbing her scalp as much as possible. This building's so run down and filthy, despite the claims of revamping it. The only big difference in the last few years is the glass door and the equipment that's being used on the patients.

The last thing the pinkette can remember from the 'other world' is a hand going through her chest…and the lightning crackling around _his_ arm and _her_ body... Once again, despite everything she tried to do, he betrayed her yet again. After all, they went through as Team 7... Throughout the academy and all their missions... All the times her, Naruto, and Kakashi-sensei desperately tried to bring him home. After the Shinobi War and Madara's terror… Even when she punched Kaguya to stop her from getting away, so Naruto and Sasuke could seal her for good...

It was a genjutsu, there was no doubt about it. Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less. The Uchiha's jutsu isn't like any other, not with those blaring Sharingan. Those terrible, beautiful eyes that anyone can get lost in... They can make a person experience their worst nightmares and send them into a personal hell, for as long as the wielder wishes.

That wasn't the worst part... _Nope_. It was when she finally stirred on the ground, waking up from that nightmare the man she loved sent her to, that she realized nothing was ever going to be the same...

So far, there's no hint or way of returning. That's _if_ there's anything to go back to... After all this time, she still doesn't know exactly how she ended up here or why. It's not like she has Sasuke or Kaguya's power. Yes, she's unbelievably strong with amazing chakra control, but that isn't the issue. It's the _type_ of power that makes the difference. No matter how hard she can punch, it won't open a tunnel to a different dimension. Even if she could, there are so many, how would she know which is the right one? After seeing Kaguya's ability, Sakura knows there are _countless_ other places beyond the veil. This one is durable, but others? What if she finds herself in the one only made of ice or just a desert?

_'Screw that…'_

It's almost that time of year for the annual evaluation. That man will undoubtedly return... He always does. One of the only faces from the other world she could've gone the rest of eternity without seeing.

"Shit!" Huffing in frustration, a small hand smack against the tiled wall. Sopping pink hair covers her face as the warm water sprays down over her. It doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter anymore...

If given a choice, Sakura would rather look at the Joker's face every day for the rest of her life, than see _that_ man one more time...

"Sakura... What's wrong? _Are you okay?" _The pinkette's eyes roll when she hears the guard's voice from across the room with concerned twisting throughout his words. Shaking her head, the muscles in her face return to their practiced positions, a feigned smile forcing its way out.

"Of course! Just got a little soap in my eye. Nothing to worry about..."


	8. Unreadable

f"You're in an _extra_ good mood today..." Derek throws her a little side-glance, while they head back down the halls of the asylum.

Sakura _is_ in a pretty good mood. After a nice shower, the guards took her outside to get some fresh air. It's been the first time, since stepping foot in this building, that she's seen the sun...or the flurry clouds and blue sky.

It felt _invigorating_. The asylum is suffocating, terribly so. After almost three years of being confined, she practically forgot how much of a difference there is. To feel the warmth against her pale skin, to see something other than those dingy walls and not having those damn gloves on... Words just can't describe the sensation it brought.

"Going outside was great… I _really_ appreciate it." Giving off that practiced smile is like second nature anymore.

"If I could, I'd do it more often, but... we'll lose out jobs if anyone finds out. You understand, right? It's not fair, to be honest. It's just a big security risk. This stays between the three of us." Harold guided her through a back way in the older section of the building. Barely anyone goes in that area, not after an incident years ago that left it in ruins... According to the guard, anyway.

Sakura doesn't care. All that matters is that the pinkette feels better than she has in years. It's almost like the old days when she was full of vigor and strength, with energy ready to burst out if she doesn't put it to good use.

She wants to do something to release some of that steam. A mission would've been _perfect_ right about now. An adventure to get the blood flowing.

As the years go by, her light gets dimmer, as if this place is sucking the life straight out of her. Is it the atmosphere? The dark, dingy interior? The depressing mood throughout the entire building?

It doesn't matter, because at this very moment in time, she feels _great_. Better than great, honestly. After a while, it became easier to take the punches as they came, to take each day at a time. Looking forward to the future or being hopeful can be a waste of time when no one even knows what tomorrow may bring. Without a way home, this is her present _and_ future, but that doesn't mean she has to take it lying down. Part of her debated about taking the chance to knock-out the guards and run off. What can they do about it anyway? With just a flick of the wrist, she can send them flying through the brick wall that separates the asylum from The Narrows and the rest of the city.

Unlike the other world, the air here is _so_ different. There's a smog over this land that's filled with pollution and smoke, among other things... The sky isn't as clear and feels..._dirty_, like just walking through it will leave a layer of residue on her skin.

The pinkette can still remember the way everything looked back home years ago while sitting under the night sky with her team. The stars always shined brightly, so clearly... Sakura couldn't count them all, even if she tried... The air was crisp and clean when she used to run through the trees, letting it blow through her hair.

That'll never happen again.

"That's okay, Harold. What you did is _more_ than enough. Thank you _so_ much." His face turns red and he looks away, unable to hold her gaze. The voice she uses always gets that response from him, it's almost funny.

They're finally going down D-block to return her to the cage she belongs in. Even if she breaks out, which would have been easy enough, then what? There are things that she doesn't want to return to, people she'd rather avoid.

Staying here is fine. There are far worse predicaments she could be in, but at least she knows how to maneuver around in this place. Maybe being confined is for the best, to be honest. Unless that man finds anything out, there's no reason to make a run for it. That'll only result in a slew of _more_ problems. This way, Sakura won't have to be around _him_, as long as she stays inside the perimeter. In this world, she's a criminal-_a mental case_. Perhaps, she deserves it after everything that happened...

"Hahaha! Look! He's still laying there..." Green orbs glance towards the cell across from hers, eyeing the clown in bed. The clown's able to move his feet around but is having a difficult time trying to lift his head to look at them. He's struggling, trying to push further than his body will allow. She can see it in the way his wiry veins are straining against the tan skin along his bare forearms and the corded scalene muscles protruding from his neck.

_'I guess I used a little more chakra on him than necessary... Whoops.'_

By now, the clown should've been able to sit up... Then again, his body can't utilize chakra. The sudden surge was probably a shock to his system. Unlike in the shinobi world, people don't possess or have the ability to manipulate chakra. There's a very different kind of energy here...

While most people are regular humans, there are special cases. These _meta-humans_ are oddities in nature to the rest of this world, those who have special abilities-_powers-_but there isn't an ounce of chakra in them.

There are stories all over the news and papers about these people, good and bad. Some use their gifts for justice, while others do whatever they please. That's one similarity between the two worlds. There's a fine-line this society draws between the groups, not willing to see any _gray_. It's either right or wrong. Fighter for justice or criminal. White or black. No one cares to see the reasoning behind _anything_, just basing their judgment and verdict off the individual's actions at the time.

Despite not having any particular superpowers or gifts, there are still plenty of individuals that utilize the tools they have and make the most out of it. Batman was an example of that. He's a regular human being, not able to fly or shoot lasers from his eyes, but uses his brain and experience to overcome many obstacles.

_'Just like the Joker...'_

A grin spreads across her face when he cranes his neck up from the pillow, frowning at the sight of her. Without hesitating, she blows him a kiss, enjoying the way he grimaces and pulls his scarred lips back over his teeth to bare them. It reminds her of a wild dog, growling out and snapping at someone getting too close to their territory.

_'What a character...'_

Taking the time to quickly study his face, the swelling and bruises are calling out to the medic in her to do something about it. It can't be helped. Once a healer, _always_ a healer. Dried blood ran down his tan skin in ribbons, coming from his forehead and nose, but it looks like his lip's also busted.

_What a mess… _

It bothers her how the guards take their anger out on others, knowing the inmates can't retaliate for the most part. Half of the time, they're restrained with a straightjacket or strapped to the bed… What's the fun in that? They might as well go to a retirement home and have a go at it. The elderly would be able to fight back better than some of the people in here, at least they can use canes and walkers. The inmates usually can't move and have to lie there, while being beaten. If they try to fight it off, the guards will hurt them worse, then throw them into J-block. It's a lose-lose situation.

How cowardly...

Sure, most of the people here have done terrible things, but what gives the guards the right to judge them for it? They already went to court, in front of a judge and jury, that's why they're here. Most of the staff only hear of the criminals on the news, without actually being affected by their actions. Yet, there _so_ full of anger, they just can't _possibly_ contain themselves for some ungodly reason when the inmate's admitted and feel the need to hurt them further. As if the cops, jail, and transport, and life haven't done that enough already. No one gives a shit. It's a lifelong punishment, where everyone's allowed to take turns throwing in the shots.

Even if the clown is a prick at times, it just doesn't seem right. How would they like it if she flipped the switch and showed them how it feels to be at the mercy of someone stronger than them? Not very much...

Opening the pane of glass—_that's supposed to hold her back for some unfathomable reason_—she steps into her cell, not bothering to say a word to the men who escorted her back.

How far would they have gone if she didn't demand to go to the shower room? Would they have beaten him to death? _No_. Something would've been done before that happened, even if it got her in 'trouble'. It's a pain, but it's better to play nice for now. There isn't anything they can throw at her that she can't handle... Kami-sama knows she's been through hundreds of times worse than whatever this asylum can come up with.

"What happened? Where is he?!" As the glass door closes with a beep, a woman's voice echoes through the hall. It's almost as loud as the annoying clicking of her heels against the hard floor.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Harold quickly turns when the blonde storms up to them. Her blue eyes are wide and full of fire, glaring at everyone in the vicinity. Snapping her head to the side, she covers her mouth with a dainty hand, running up to the cell across the hall.

"What-What _happened?!_ What... is the meaning of _this_!" The voice pierces the pinkette's eardrums as she yells, causing her to wince from the noise. "Open the cell, right now!"

"Doctor, that really isn't a good idea... It's also against protocol. You're a psychiatrist, not a medical doctor." The guard technically isn't wrong. What the hell does _Harleen_ think she can do? Talk away the swelling and bruising?

_'Hahaha...'_

No. The only one who can do anything for him is sitting behind the glass, flopping down on a creaky mattress, and watching the commotion with interest. Nothing like a good shit-show to pass the time. The doctor has a surprising flair for dramatic… Who would've thought it? She always seems so docile, but sometimes a woman can turn into a lioness when they're protective of their meat. That's what the Joker is to her. A juicy steak that she wants to sink her teeth into, without realizing it's full of poison.

"This is unacceptable! This goes _far_ beyond what you guys have been getting away with! It's very clear what happened. How _dare_ you beat one of my patients to the point they can't even get up! You'll all be fired for this! Mark my words!" Harleen's face is turning pink to a lovely shade of red from yelling, while her blood pressure rises. The tight ponytail behind her head is loosening from swinging back and forth, from the cell to the guards.

_'Strange...'_

This isn't the first time that guards have stepped far beyond the boundaries of what's allowed between themselves and the patients, but this is unusual for the doctor to get _so_ riled up about it.

_'Just like how she came to D-block yesterday to see Zsasz... It's bullshit.'_

It's clear what's happening. The doctor must've started becoming infatuated with the Joker... From listening to snippets of their conversation, he can see it too.

_'Stupid woman...'_

Doesn't the blonde see what's happening? What he's doing? The Joker isn't the kind of man to develop feelings for another human being. _Nope_... A perfect example of a narcissist _and_ sociopath, for sure. This has to be a trick for whatever he's planning next. The clown's known for manipulating people without them even realizing it, and she's falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

After their initial meeting, Sakura immediately realized what kind of woman Harleen Quinzel is. Lonely, trying to work hard to prove her worth, throwing herself headfirst into a job to overcompensate for what's missing in life... Easy pickings for someone like the Joker, who needs people on his side to pull whatever scheme he's cooking up. It's almost laughable...

_'And she's supposed to be one of the best doctors in this damn building?'_

"He was like this when our shift started! This isn't our fault!" Derek's yelling now, knowing they're going to be in trouble if the doctor reports the incident. There's a good chance they'll lose their jobs too.

"Yeah, sure! Then, I guess he just beat himself up?" Harleen looked at the man in bed, sympathy and anger painted all over her pretty features. It's a sad sight to see her go down this route, but no one can stop her, except for herself. The pinkette does enjoy their sessions, now and then... There aren't many people to have a 'normal' conversation with around here. The guards just want to flirt and most of the patients are too far gone to keep up.

"Harleen, I _swear_ that he wasn't moving when I got here. He's just been lying in bed all day, barely moving an inch. Look! That's the most I've seen out of him so far..." A small chuckle left the Sakura's lips hearing the panic in Harold's voice. He knows he's screwed now and is trying to dig himself out of the hole he created. That's what he gets for beating up on someone who can't move.

"Is that so?" The blonde turns her head away from the Joker's cell, eyeing Sakura with a side glance. She internally groans seeing the look in those blue eyes, already knowing which direction the wheel is turning.

"Did you do this? Please... Don't tell me..." Green eyes widen with feigned shock, craning her neck back and pointing to a thumb to herself. "Please, don't tell me you had something to do with this, Sakura... Especially, after I helped you get those gloves off..." Harleen's voice is quiet, disappointment practically dripping from her tongue, mixing in with a handful of other emotions. If Sakura cared, she might have felt a little guilty.

_'If she knew what he was going to do to me, she wouldn't be saying that...'_

"Sakura would never do that!" It was hard trying not to laugh at these people. They're so clueless... The doctors, the guards, everyone. They can't put anything together, even if she gave them handwritten instructions on how to do it.

"N-_No_." A deep gravelly voice croaked from the bed, drawing everyone's attention to the cell behind them. The blonde was the first to spin around, stepping closer to the glass to hear better.

"No, what? Mr. J?" The tone in the woman's voice and nickname tells Sakura everything she needs to know about the situation. It's always the small details that are the most crucial when trying to figure something out.

_'So… He can finally talk, hmm? Took that bum long enough...'_

"S-She...didn't..." His words are strained, struggling to get out. The pinkette shifts her head to the side, curious about what he's trying to pull now. Is he worried that if she gets in trouble for this, they'll move her cell and make it harder to get to her? That's what they wanted to do in the first place. Does he just want to get the guards back for what they did to him? Or perhaps he wants to keep playing this little game? It's not like he's doing this out of guilt for trying to kill her. _No_. He's not that kind of person, that's for sure...

"Well... Well, if it wasn't her, then it's you guys... That's it! I'm getting Dr. Arkham to come down here, _right now!_ Then, we can figure this _all_ out." Clicking her tongue, those annoying heels click loudly as she rushes down the hall, leaving the guards frozen on the spot. If Dr. Arkham's coming down, they're all _fucked_... That doctor... He's _very_ different than most.

_'Shit...'_

Something about him seriously unnerves the pinkette, making her want to avoid him if necessary.

Stepping up to the glass and lowering her head to one of the holes, Sakura glances at the men standing there idly, wasting time. "Harold, Derek... Go try to talk her out of it. Do something to convince her not to bring Arkham down here. If he does, we're all seriously screwed..."

She won't be, but they will. If the pinkette wants any enjoyment out of this place, at least Harold is needed. Derek can go to hell, but he occasionally has his uses. Not only that, but the good doctor will end up moving either her or the clown after getting to the bottom of everything and that won't be any fun.

Nodding stupidly, the dark-haired man elbows Derek in the side, motioning with his chin in the direction Harleen just ran off in. Within seconds, they're off and she knows that will buy her some time.

Discreetly looking in both directions to make sure no one else might be lurking in the halls, Sakura runs over to the bed, sliding her hand under the mattress. Feeling around, the plastic card isn't wedged in too far, making it easily accessible for when she needs it.

_'Bingo...'_

This won't take long, not at all. The guards will keep the blonde busy enough, before reaching Arkham's office, so she can do what needs to be done. It's been long enough and is starting to lose its entertainment value...

Grabbing the keycard, she shoves her arm through the hole in the farthest corner of the cell, reaching for the control pad. Biting down into her lower lip, she wishes it was just a little closer. Unlike the clown, her arms are much shorter and don't have the same reach... It's not an easy feat, even with longer limbs. It takes bending the elbow at an unnatural angle just to get it _right_.

_'Goddammit!'_

Running her tongue across her teeth, Sakura pushes hard up against the glass to get closer. It's hard to do it from the inside _without_ breaking the door, unlike getting back in. She's fast enough to do it from the outside and get into the cell before it closes...

Hearing the beep, a sigh leaves her pink lips as she yanks the arm out quickly. It's easy to get a limb caught if the person isn't fast... Even if she wasn't, the pinkette can make the door stop, just by flexing her muscles and holding it in place. Something like this won't crush her bones. _Nope_… The fact that the clown can do it without causing himself injury is admittedly impressive. He's quite fast for a regular human, especially taking his arm length into account.

Stepping out into the hall, there isn't a soul in sight that isn't caged in. The guards are irresponsible to leave_ D_-_block_ unattended. It's the worse one, besides J, and most of them came from D in the first place. Even if Sakura's the one who told them to leave, she'd a goddamn _inmate_. Why the listen to her? If the clown or Crane said the same thing, they'd get smacked on the head with a nightstick.

Doesn't matter. There's something she has to do before the cavalry arrives and wants to bayonet everyone. Padding across the floor to the other cell, she wonders how he's going to react. The fact that he didn't out her to his precious doctor was a pleasant surprise, but then again… They'd ask _why_ she did it, especially with the evaluation looming overhead. Then, he'll be screwed too.

A smirk spreads across her face at the clown's expression when he lifts his head, watching her coming from his spot on the bed. Is he shocked? Angry? Confused? Afraid? Any of those emotions is satisfying. He deserves them, every _single_ one.

_'Good...'_

Hopefully, that little demonstration from last night will halt any immediate plans for retaliation. If he isn't careful, he's going to end up dead. No one would sit there and do nothing, while someone tries to kill them. At least, anyone in their _right_ mind.

Dark eyes blink rapidly when she steps in front of the glass, probably second-guessing what he's seeing. Looking from one end of the hallway to the other, there aren't any guards standing around at the moment. Harold and Derek are foolish enough not to think of that when she sent them on their little mission. The next hall of D-Block has a few, but they'll be busy watching the patients over there.

Smacking the keycard against the control pad to the Joker's cell, she smirks at the beeping sound going off. He's an interesting man...even if he tried to hurt her. Sakura isn't afraid, not at all. If the pinkette really wants to, she can tear him apart with very little effort. With him being immobile for the most part, it would be so _easy_, she wouldn't even have to _try_.

If he wants to keep playing the murder game, she'll have to show him what she's capable of to help him understand his position a little better. The clown isn't capable of casting his shadow over her like he most likely _genuinely_ believed. _Nope_. Last night showed him where he really belongs…

_Beneath her. _

The Joker's head falls back against the pillow, becoming tired from holding it up before it snaps right back into place. The glare on his face makes her unintentionally laugh out loud, finding this situation _hilarious_.

"Aww... What's wrong, handsome? Didn't you _miss_ me?" The soft, mocking voice causes him to pull his lips over those damaged teeth, baring them angrily. She half expects him to growl out menacingly, like a _mean_ dog, with that face he's making.

_'Someone needs to brush those damn teeth... If I had more time, I could easily hold him down and do it. Ahh... He really doesn't care about personal hygiene.'_

It's a real shame that such a handsome face is being wasted this way. The scars he's running his tongue over aren't the problem with his mouth. It's the shit that comes out of and the way he talks. A good start would be brushing those teeth and washing that ratty hair. Knowing how the clown is, it'd be easier giving a cat a bath and a lot less dangerous. If only he took care of himself, like how Sasuke used to, he'd be quite a catch

_'Don't think about him...'_

"Go...away..._witch_..." Green eyes narrow on the man lying flat against the mattress, practically foaming at the mouth in his anger. Another laugh comes out when he turns his head away, refusing to look at her.

Stepping closer to the bed and gently sitting down on the edge, the muscles he _can_ move, quickly tense up. Is he that uncomfortable from having anyone close? Or is it because she threw him around barely nine hours ago?

It's not like Sakura _wants_ to hurt him. Not really... That isn't the type of person she is. Pain becomes part of every shinobi's life and they understand it more than anyone else could ever imagine. After enduring and experiencing that sensation so many times, it isn't something she desires to inflict _unless _it's necessary. However, there has to be a line drawn between them... He needs to understand the reality of their situation.

"Don't be like that... You started this, no?" His jaw shifts and a real _growl_ comes out this time. The vibrations from sound can be felt through the mattress, without having to touch him. She didn't come here to hurt or embarrass him more than what's already happened.

"..._Joker_." The clown furrows his brow, shifting as much as he's able to-_which isn't much_-to glance back at her. Confusion pierces through his enraged expression when he hears his name. His dark eyes burn a hole into her with a look of suspicion brimming just beneath the anger that constantly floats on the surface.

The pinkette bites the inside of her lip at the sight of them. They're so incredibly _intense_. She can't remember seeing eyes like his before. The Uchiha she's met-_Sasuke, Itachi, Obito…Madara_-have overbearing, dark ones too, but not like this. There's a flurry of emotions in them, all vicious and hateful in nature. What makes a man become this way? Even Madara's weren't full of such malice, and he tried to destroy the world. They're like large splotches of pitch-black ink from how dilated his pupils are with bloodlust, eating away at the small ring of brown that surrounds them. It's not just that. There's depth to them, a dark tunnel that seems to go on forever. Something lurks in the darkness, waiting to lash out and drag the unsuspecting straight to hell where it was birthed from.

_They're beautiful. _

"I didn't come over here to start shit, so take it down a few notches." Reaching forward, she places a hand on his chest and resists the urge to chuckle when he jerks at the sudden touch. The muscles beneath the orange fabric move beneath her fingers, flexing in a way that resembles a pulse. The actual heartbeat is racing, thumping around erratically inside. At least it confirms that the Joker actually does possess a heart, unlike what most people say...

It would've been easier to fix the damage done to his face by placing her hand over it, but there's no guarantee he won't try to lunge for it or bite something off. That would only end with him lying in a pool of his own blood, but like Sakura already said, she _didn't_ come here to fight.

"W-What...are you..." A green glow emanates from her hand, sending chakra into the tense body on the bed. A groan leaves his ruined lips from the warmth washing over him and he reluctantly relaxes into the mattress, while she fixes what's been done. His scarred bottom lip drops slightly with a heavy breath, seemingly enjoying a reprieve from the suffering he's endured for hours. The pinkette tries to swallow down the heat licking at her cheeks from the noise, not expecting something like _that_ to come from the manic clown himself.

_'Wow...'_

Joker closes his eyes, letting his head lull to the side while the swelling goes down and the bruises start to fade. It only takes a few moments to return him to his terrible self. Sakura silently watches the process, drinking in the change her ability elicits from him. It's strange to see someone _so_ angry and full of hostile energy to make such a calm expression. Despite everything and the fact that he isn't talking, it's not a bad sight to witness. When he isn't glaring or making some inhuman sound, he looks…quite _different_.

Using her chakra to check his vitals, the clown is back to his good old self-_whatever the hell that is_. The shock she purposely caused to his system shouldn't be an issue, now that he's healed. It's important to show him what _can_ happen if he doesn't play his cards right.

Satisfied with the job, she quirks a brow when he lets out small breaths from his parted lips. Despite being healed, he's not moving much. Joker must've exhausted himself from fighting against the hold over his body all night and most of the morning. She can tell he's not sleeping, probably just relaxing. Part of her expected him to try something, knowing how he is...which would've been _extremely_ foolish.

Sighing, Sakura pushes up off the side of the bed to leave the cell, before anyone comes back. It'll only cause unnecessary drama if they find her in here. Something no one needs at the moment, especially if Dr. Arkham's coming. Which he definitely will, after the theatrics Harleen will put on in his office. He likes getting personally involved in these kinds of matters when it suits him.

A hand reaches out, grabbing her wrist tightly. His long fingers coil around her pale skin, hanging on to keep her in place. The pinkette glances down at the offending hard, noticing how rough and textured they are in comparison, despite all the harsh conditions hers have been through. They're rugged and callused, just like his appearance and personality. She didn't expect anything less from a man like him. The clown using lotion when he refuses shampoo would be mind-boggling.

_'They feel just like I imagined...'_

Joker's struggling to push himself up on the bed, having a difficult time. He _should_ be feeling a hundred times better, than a few minutes ago. Noticing the dark eyes staring up at her only makes the pinkette want to leave that much faster. She feels uncomfortable, which is a feat in itself. Is he going to try something, now that he has some of that chaotic energy back? The look on his face _almost_ makes her squirm and she tries to ignore it by shifting her gaze towards the rough fingers clasping onto her wrist.

It's a little confusing...The murderous intent that typically comes off him in strong waves-_more like a tsunami_-is closer to small ripples, calmly lapping at the water's edge. Perhaps he's not feeling all there yet. Her ability can help his physical body, but not the mental and emotional fatigue, which can be just as exhausting. Kami knows she can sense that thirst for blood from a distance. The clown probably needs some rest, before he's back at it again.

Glancing back towards him, they stare each other down for several moments, trying to figure out what the other is thinking. Despite unusually being able to pick up what he's putting down, the pinkette can't read him. It's a shocking realization as it dawns on her, fueling the confusion ebbing its way in. Being a kunoichi, it's part of the job to know what the enemy is thinking, to predict what's going to happen just from any subtle movement alone…but _this?_ She's never seen that look in someone's eyes before. The darkness reminds her of Sasuke's, more than she would've liked to admit, but even he never looked like _this_.

_'What's this bastard thinking?'_

The grip on her wrist tightens, making her eyes narrow at the clown in forewarning. If he wants to play games, every bone in that hand will be broken and this time, she won't be nice enough to heal it.

"..._Why?_..." Joker's voice is low, barely audible... If her ears weren't so keen, she might've missed it. The words don't have the same bite she can tell he intended from his expression. If anything, there's confusion in his tone, thoroughly laced with curiosity and something else she's doesn't recognize.

Why, what? Why did she heal him? Why did she go out of her way, when it could get them in trouble? Why didn't she kill him last night? Why did she stop the guards from beating him? Too many questions it could be and not enough time to give any answers. The tapping on the stairs down the hall is making that clear. People are coming and from the sounds of footsteps she's picking up, there's at least five on the way.

Gritting her teeth, Sakura gently pulls back, not wanting to break his fingers in the process. She needs to rush before someone comes and sees them. His grip tightens and she raises a brow at the challenge. As much as a verbal tussle or stare-down to see who's the ballsier one between them seems interesting, there just isn't time for this.

"Get your hand off of me, before you lose it, _clown_." Green eyes harden, daring him to mess with her at this moment. Joker isn't a fool, even if he's reckless. He knows there's a time and place for everything and this is _not_ it. Scoffing, he lets go of her wrist and looks away, finding something offensive on the dingy wall to glare at.

Sakura can't help chuckling at his attitude before she turns away and gracefully steps out of the cell. That turned out to be more interesting than she thought it would, despite him not going for the attack. He doesn't have to say anything. Words can betray people, but body language is a whole different ballgame. She doesn't understand what happened, but it's curious enough to make her want to find out.

Hearing voices around the corner, Sakura quickly whips the keycard against the control pad to close his cell. She slides across the smooth surface of the floor, doing the same to hers and running in before the glass can close. Another benefit of all the shinobi training is having stealth and speed on her side. The guards are coming with the doctors in tow... Now isn't the time to be idle if this is going to be pulled off...

Slipping the card back in place under the mattress, the pinkette grabs a book and hops onto the bed, getting into a familiar position as she tries to look as casual as ever. This is what the staff will expect her to be doing, after all. A snicker leaves her lips thinking about the expression Harleen will make when they get here.

_'That's what she gets for sticking her nose in.'_

Peeking over the edge of the book, her brows furrow when she notices the unintentional accomplice in the cover-up. Joker is sitting up on the bed and staring uncomfortably in her direction while rubbing the dry blood from his face with the bottom of one of his sheets. Good, it will be easier if he does that. At least he's quick on the uptake and understands what's going on.

_'Looks like he's going to go along with it...unless he tries something.'_

If he does, she'll be ready for it. The guards will have her back anyway. The only one in his corner is a foolish woman, who seems to have become enamored with the killer.

Glancing back towards the words on the pages, Sakura tries to ignore the dark eyes staring at her. There's a strange sensation creeping up along her spine, like someone's cold fingers are tracing the curve of her back. Shaking her head, the pinkette grimaces when it won't go away. Grazing her teeth over her bottom lips, she looks down at the sheet on the bed, attempting to place the uneasy feeling.

It's not murderous intent, which has become all too familiar, or the inkling of oncoming danger. _What is this?_ Fiddling with the corner of a page she has no interest in reading, she shifts her jaw in agitation. This isn't something easily identifiable like most things are. For the last three years, every day has been spent in the company of a wide variety of the criminally insane. There isn't much that can be surprising or unexpected anymore. Between that and shinobi, it's easy to decipher people's actions and words, but this feels _different_. Sakura doesn't have experience with this, like with everything else. Hell, she's not even sure _what_ it is. Either way… It's fucking annoying.

Peering back up, those dark eyes are still staring...completely _unreadable_. The urge to throw her book against the glass feels _very_ tempting...


	9. Dreams

This is completely _unbelievable_...

Stomping down the halls, Harleen feels like her head's going to explode from the rage alone. The guards... They've gone _too_ far this time.

"You should have seen it, Dr. Arkham. He's so _battered_, he can't even sit up in bed. I can't sit by and watch this happen anymore. I'm sorry, but I won't." How can they expect her to do that? The patients in this building are the staff's responsibility, which includes their well-being and rehabilitation.

"She's blowing everything out of proportion... That clown is just playing around, trying to mess with us. Dr. Quinzel is far too concerned with him, I'm afraid. Easily falling for his tricks" Harold speaks up, trailing alongside them.

Scoffing, the blonde shoots daggers at the guards following them with her eyes. These animals are to blame for all of this. Now they're trying to cover their own asses, so they don't lose their jobs. The moment the head of the asylum gets a good look at the damage that's been done, it'll be a wrap.

"We will see about that..." The older man says as they enter D-block. If anyone can understand how Harleen feels, it would be Jeremiah. He's as passionate about the patient's rehabilitation as she is.

Part of her can't help feeling like there's more to this than meets the eye. Mr. J doesn't seem like the type to allow someone to beat him to such an extent, without there being some form of retaliation. There are more than enough reports from his previous stays in the asylum to prove that.

Guards and doctors have been killed or maimed, orderlies missing fingers or chunks of flesh, eyes being gouged out. Truly terrible incidents, even for this place. That's a major reason the straight jacket was put on, even before arriving at Arkham and _none_ of the doctors willingly volunteered to work with him.

This facility was previously run by Amadeus Arkham, but after passing away, his nephew replaced him. With Jeremiah taking over as head, the asylum is said to have changed drastically. His predecessor had fallen into the clutches of insanity- _according to the rumors_-and the patients ended up feeling the brunt of that madness.

The multiple times the Joker had been previously admitted into the asylum, it was mostly under the last administration. Hopefully, this stay will prove to be more fruitful, but how is that supposed to happen with the abuses constantly being carried out against him?

This doesn't make sense... Mr. J wouldn't let someone do this to him, not without a brawl breaking out or at least some visible evidence of a struggle. Part of her can't help feeling that Sakura has something to do with it. Harleen's read the files and comprehends a _few_ things, but there are still many blank spaces. Did she do something to him? Or made it possible for the guards to attack him?

_...I just feel like something isn't right about this whole thing...'_

Both of them are her patients. Sakura hasn't tried to pull anything in a long time, that was the reason she pushed for the gloves to come off... It's just too much of a coincidence that when the pinkette's given a reprieve and Mr. J has the straight jacket removed, then suddenly there's an incident.

_'Far too much of a coincidence for my liking__...'_

They're almost at Mr. J's cell now, and Jeremiah can see with his own eyes what's been going on in the asylum when he's not around. The only thing she can hope for is that he takes this seriously and makes improvements with security. Terminate the ones who aren't fulfilling their obligations and try to seek out people who will do the job required of the position.

It won't be a simple task. There are very few people willing to step a foot in Arkham with the way things are and the rumors that have spread. It can't be helped; this place does have a bad reputation. No one can say the asylum hasn't earned it. The worst of the worst in Gotham are sent here...

Jeremiah speeds up, moving between the guards and going on ahead, wanting to take a look at what everyone's been arguing about with his own eyes. A smirk spreads across her face watching Harold and Derek shift on their feet, squirming. They deserve far more than just losing their jobs.

Blue eyes flash towards the doctor as he stood in front of the cell. She picks up the pace when she notices his brows furrow. He must be looking at all the swelling and bruising on the clown's face, where his attacker stupidly focused on. If they chose his torso or back, it wouldn't have been so obvious.

_Good..._

"Dr. Quinzel... Would you like to explain yourself?" Jeremiah slowly turns his head, eyeing her over the glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. She doesn't understand what he means. The proof is in the pudding.

_"Myself?"_ Her heels click loudly against the smooth floor as she strides up towards her boss. The guards are right behind her, hanging back a bit from knowing they're about to be chewed out.

"Exactly as I said... Would you care to explain yourself?" His words are quiet, but stern. Her face twists in confusion, not understanding why he needs an explanation for this. Glancing through the glass, her jaw _drops_. Mr. J is sitting up in bed with a grin across his face. Dark eyes watch them curiously before they narrow at the sight of the guards behind them.

_'W-What?!'_

There isn't any blood, no bruises or swelling... The clown's skin is just as tan and scarred as the previous day. He appears perfectly fine as if nothing happened. The picture of casualness, relaxing in bed with a sheet pulled up to his waist.

"See! I told you, Dr. Arkham. Blowing _everything_ out of proportion..." Despite Harold's words, the expression on his face says otherwise. Confusion, shock, and most importantly, _relief_.

Harleen stands in front of the glass, staring at her patient wildly, not understanding what's happening. He was just injured a little over fifteen minutes ago, with blood all over his face. So, how? Where did it go? The guards said he didn't move a muscle all morning, yet here he is...sitting up and smiling. Was it all a ruse, just like Harold said?

"I-I don't understand..." She's completely baffled by this sudden turn of events. A sickening feeling churns in her gut, realizing how this must look in front of the head of the asylum. Harold and Derek both chimed in upstairs, saying she's too preoccupied with Mr. J and is being manipulated by him, which she vehemently denies. This doesn't bode well for her at this rate, not at all.

"Patient 0801. How are you feeling today?" Jeremiah spoke calmly with an even tone, dipping his head towards one of the holes in the glass. He ran his fingers through his slicked back, light-brown hair. This is how he talks with most of the patients, always slowing an impression of professionalism. Reaching up, the doctor pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, watching the clown carefully.

Joker laughs hysterically, letting his eyes roll back into his head and completely ignoring the question. The blonde bites the inside of her lip, not liking how this is turning out. This is going to reflect badly on her if he doesn't speak up and tell Jeremiah what happened.

"No use in talking to this one, Doctor. He's nuttier than a squirrel turd at a peanut festival." Derek chuckles and sticks his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants, tugging them up with a smirk. They're enjoying this... After all the guards have done, now they're standing here looking _positively_ smug.

"Mr. J... Tell Dr. Arkham what happened..." Hearing his name, the laughter dies down, but the grin doesn't disappear as his dark eyes flicker in her direction. "Tell him what happened to you. The bruises... The blood. What they _did_ to you!" She's becoming desperate, trying to use her eyes to plead with him without making more of a scene.

Cocking his head to the side, Joker's brows shoot up as he glances around the small cell... like he doesn't have a clue what in the world she's talking about. This is horrifying and shocking that he's allowing someone to disrespect him this way. Why won't he say anything, especially when her name's on the line?

_'Don't do this, Mr. J... Not to me...'_

"Excuse me, Derek. We don't talk about patients in that manner, _especially_ in their presence. You'll do well to remember that. There _is_ use in talking to our patients, no matter the circumstance. Otherwise, how are we supposed to help them? To rehabilitate them? To get them prepared to be reacquainted back into society?" Jeremiah's putting on a calm face, but there's a bite to his words. Making fun of or disrespecting patients is something he never tolerates, no matter who it is.

"Sorry. You're right, sir. Forgive me..." Taking a few steps back and glancing at Harold, it's apparent that being reprimanded isn't going to kill the redhead's mood. After all, the two know they're getting away scot-free. This isn't right...

"Mr. J, please! Tell them what happened!" Harleen's panicking, knowing how this will play out. The respect and integrity she spent the last year building up is about to come crashing down on her head if he doesn't take up for her. Why won't he say anything? Is he worried about the repercussions? Doesn't he realize these guards will out of here and he won't have to worry about them anymore? She did this for him, so why?

Turning towards her, Jeremiah purses his lips. There's a look of disappointment in his dark eyes when he notices her panicked expression, making her feel worse than the clown's refusal to come to her aid.

"Dr. Quinzel... Unless Patient 0801 gives us a legal name, please refrain from using nicknames or calling him by a "criminal alias". It is not professional, nor helping the patient in any way. We have a job to do here, you need to remember that. From the way it looks, perhaps there is some truth in Harold's claims..." His words are like a punch to the gut, knowing the wind right out of her. She feels disoriented and needs some stability, almost daring to fall back against the wall. No. Showing such mental weakness in front of her boss is something she couldn't forgive herself for. She's better than this and has to prove it.

"I want to speak to you in my office, after your next session." Sighing, the older man throws the clown another glance, before turning away. It's all over now... There's a good chance she will be taken off of the case and it might be reassigned to another doctor instead.

Harleen's chance at finally getting the recognition she deserves and to be the one to rehabilitate the "Clown Prince of Crime" could all be over. It was the big break she's been waiting and hoping for.

"What wrong, Doctor? Are you not feeling well today?" Harold's voice grated the blonde's nerves beyond belief as he snickers behind her. "You know, seeing things that aren't there is a good sign that something might be wrong... At least, from _my_ experience here."

Whirling around towards the dark-haired man, she silently counts to ten in a desperate attempt to calm down the urges to smack him across the face. This is _all_ his fault... He and the other guards with their atrocious actions. All she's trying to do is make the asylum a better place, one that fulfills its original purpose. So much time and effort has been sacrificed just for that and these men are _laughing_ at her... They're trying to gaslight her, a _psychiatrist_. It's beyond humiliating.

"You guys are disgusting and should be ashamed of yourselves!" Her angry words only bring more laughter, fueling the rage gnawing at her insides. The guards turn away and strut down the hall, feeling good about how things worked out. She can hear the condescending remarks from the two men and their relief that they're off the hook—_for now_.

_'How dare they...'_

Harleen's seething just under the surface and having a hard time keeping those emotions from playing out on her face. Why do the bad ones always get away with murder, while good people are punished? Life isn't fair… This world is _not_ fair… The longer she works in this place, the more apparent it's becoming.

Shifting back towards the cell, her eyes widen when she notices what Mr. J is doing. He's pulling down the top of his unzipped jumpsuit, baring his chest and working on tugging his arms free of the orange fabric. It falls when he gets them out, pooling around his waist and he lets out a heavy sigh of relief from ridding himself of the garment.

_'Oh…'_

Despite the grin and laughter he was exhibiting just moments ago, the clown looks tired as he turns away. The dark circles around his eyes always made her curious if they're from lack of sleep or dyed into his skin from constantly applying black greasepaint around them. Shifting on the bed, he rolls over with a huff, turning his back towards her to face the wall.

Harleen purses her lips together as the anger starts fading away. The sight shocked her so much, it took her completely off guard. The thought of Harold and Derek drifts off into some vacant recess of her mind.

_'Oh…my God.'_

Mr. J's chest and arms... His tan skin is littered with terrible-looking dark and pink scars. Some look older than others, telling the horror-story of the life this man's been through. It's obvious most aren't self-inflicted unless he happens to be a contortionist among a slew of other things... Knife wounds, gunshots, and angry splotches from burns... What the hell did he endure? How is he even still alive?

The blonde's chest tightens from staring at him. _How cruel_... The muscles beneath the marred skin flex as he moves around, trying to find a comfortable spot. The heat in her cheeks intensifies while she watches him. She finds it interesting how different his body looks beneath the infamous garb he dons on the news and the orange jumpsuit he wears now. Who would have known?

"Take a _picture_... It'll, ah, _last_ longer, pumpkin." His voice is gravelly, the sudden noise making her practically jump out of her skin. How did he know she was staring, when he's facing the wall?

The way he's speaking is so different than normal. There's no hint of the energy he usually exerts or even slight amusement. He just sounds..._tired_. Something flutters in her chest from hearing him this way, like it's a special sneak-peek that no one else was supposed to see.

There's no way she's giving up on this man, not after some of the progress they've made. No one's going to take this away from her, not even Jeremiah. The Joker's indeed a criminal and has done heinous things, but there's more to it than just that. She just needs to keep working with him, until she can climb over the wall he built around himself.

Life has been unfair to him; the scars are proof of that. Part of her knows that deep down, there must be a lonely man, waiting for someone to reach out to him... To pull him out of the dark pit the world threw him into.

No one else has been capable of such a feat. They don't possess the patience or care to do it. She'll show them...all of them.

If anyone's going to help the _Joker_, it will be _Harleen Quinzel_.

* * *

"Jeanie... _Jeanie_, just wait..."

A woman paces around the dingy room, pulling out drawers and scouring through piles of clothing. A small noise leaves her lips when she yanks out a piece deemed worth keeping. Dark hair swings back and forth as she quickly moves around, not sparing a single glance at the man in the doorway of their bedroom.

"You don't have to do this. I'm doing everything I can…" His voice is quiet and weary from exhaustion. It's not just physical. _Nope_. That's not the problem, he can endure that without an issue. The other ways are what takes a toll on his body and psyche. He stays rooted on the spot and watches the room being torn apart like a violent whirlwind just passed through.

_Disbelief. _

That's the only thing that comes to mind to call this. A part of him knew this day would come, it was only a matter of time. After all, everyone always disappears, no matter how hard he tries to stop it.

An impatient sigh leaves her mouth when she finally stops to look over at him. It's enough to suck the air from his lungs as lump forms in his throat. She's _beautiful_... Far too pretty for someone like him and they both know it.

"Really? You're doing _everything_ you can?" The words bite at him, making his chest tight and heavy like she's filling it with lead. The question hurts, exactly the way she hoped it would. Her dark eyes narrow in anger and it feels almost as if they can strip away the worn clothing from his body, even the layers of skin covering his muscles. They burn, scorching his insides as they glance him over, scrutinizing his appearance.

"Yes... I'm trying to do my best." He doesn't know where the strength came from, but he forces his legs to move forward, dragging his tattered boots across the old floorboards. Maybe… Maybe if he can just _hold_ her, it might change her mind and help her remember why she even moved into his shoddy apartment in the first place.

His steps are slow and measured, almost like if he moves too fast, she'd disappear is a wisp of smoke. Walking closer to the brunette, he notices her expression harden, that pretty face twisting into a grimace. Does being near repulse her _that_ much? Reaching out, all he wants is to feel her against him again. For her to tell him that she's just angry and doesn't mean it. Isn't that how this usually ends?

Jeanie jumps back as if his touch alone will sear the soft skin right off of her bones. Those pink lips pull back over her teeth, showing how tightly they're clenched.

"Your best?! You call this your best?!" He instinctively raises his hands in front of him to pat the air, trying to get her to calm down-to stop _screaming_. There's no reason to yell. Can't they just talk it out, like they used to?

Shrieking, the brunette moves forward, spitting curses and slapping his chest. She always reminds him of an angry cat when she's like this. It doesn't hurt... Nothing _physically_ hurts anymore. She keeps going, shoving and smacking him, until the back of his boots hit the side of the mattress on the floor. He doesn't have it in him to stop her from making him topple over onto it. If it makes her feel better, then it's worth it.

_'Just let her get it out...'_

"How am I supposed to live like this, Jack? _Well?_ In this shitty fucking apartment? With no money? _Hmm?_ We're just barely getting by on the bills! I can't go out or do anything… Buying new clothes is out of the question. I can't go out to eat with my friends! Can't even go to the fucking salon. Everyone else can, but not us!" Her voice drops low, looking away from him and wrapping her arms around her waist. She's hugging herself since she doesn't want him to do it. "How do you expect a woman to live like this? It's... It's not fair..."

Jack knew this day was coming... Each week that went by, more and more hints were being dropped, until they became full-on fights. It's not that he isn't trying, God knows he's been... There just aren't many jobs in The Narrows that don't involve doing something illegal. He doesn't want to go that route again and tries to avoid the temptation. She doesn't understand what that lifestyle entails, how dangerous it is.

One day he can leave and never come back. That road is one he does his best to steer clear from now, not wanting to be anything like his father. Once a person falls deep into the underground, it's almost impossible to return to the light. He'll never be able to have a normal or quiet life after that. It was hard enough getting out the first time and that was lucky in itself. Doesn't she realize he'll be the one getting shot at or arrested? For what? To impress some fake skanks that talk behind each other's back? To those women, they just sit on their asses and show off whatever superficial crap they buy with someone else's blood money.

Jack doesn't want to live that way, not anymore. There's always another path, one that will keep them safe to live another day. He's trying, but it's difficult. Can't Jeanie see that? It just doesn't seem to matter anymore. No one wants to hire him the way he is, especially with the way his face looks now...

Biting his bottom lip, he runs his calloused fingers through his dirty blonde waves. What does she want from him? To yell and throw things around the room, the way she likes to do? To rob a bank, so that she can buy _all_ the things she dreams of? Get into trouble and hurt people for money, like all her friend's little boyfriends do?

"I'm..._sorry_..." If he could give her all the things she wants, he'd do it in a heartbeat. The problem is that everything she desires always revolves around money. Clothing, jewelry, drugs, alcohol, gambling... Every dollar he manages to bring in is gone before the end of the night. It's always a hellish fight trying to put some away to keep a roof over their heads and the heat on.

They've gone without it quite a few times already. There was no choice other than bundling up in layers of clothing and blankets just to keep warm during those frigid nights...but it's _always_ his fault. Jeanie loves reminding him of that, smacking and clawing at his face in her anger. Cursing and yelling, calling him every name in the book.

"You are sorry... A sorry excuse for a _man_." It feels like a knife's being driven right into his chest from hearing the words coming from her mouth. She always says things with the intention of inflicting more pain. The hitting never hurts nearly as bad, he can take it. Jack's used to it and has been for a long time, long before he ever met her...

"I-I just can't do this anymore. I'm so _tired_ of not having anything, Jack. I hate the way people stare at us...at _you_...at your _scars_. The things they say... I can't take it anymore. I want-no-_need_ more out of life and this just isn't it for me. Believe it or not… I _am_ sorry." Jeanie finally steps forward, crouching down to be eye-level. His head hangs low, not wanting to look up and let her see what this is really doing to him.

She hates weakness in men and has been very vocal about it these days. This is so different from before... The days where they would lay in bed and her fingers would trace over the handful of scars on his chest. _Those_ she didn't seem to mind. It was only after he received the ones on his face that things drastically changed.

"I know it's not your fault what Dave did to you or Mary... It's not fair. If we had the money, maybe it could be fixed, but that's never going to happen... Is it?" His parents... Their names alone made his throat tighten like hands are coiling around his neck and trying to strangle the life out of him.

Jeanie places a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb against the skin that wasn't ruined from his father's rampage that night, a little less than a year ago. The puffy marks still ache now and then, especially right before it rains. Without hesitating, Jack leans into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the small tenderness she's displaying. A rare occurrence anymore...

"Jack... If you really love me, like you say you do, then you'll let me go... I'm not happy anymore. Please, just let it _go_. We tried to make things work and it just isn't happening..."

"_Heh_. You don't love me anymore... Do you?" Dark eyes glance up towards the woman staring at him. Words can be deceitful, but body language always gives away more than people realize. This isn't real... She doesn't mean the things she says, not really. Jeanie's just angry that he's having a hard time finding a decent job and that the money isn't coming in like it used to.

What's the point of all this? Wasn't she the one that promised to stay by his side, no matter what? Who pursued this relationship and started following him around the neighborhood, trying to get his attention when he just wanted to be left alone? He didn't ask for this or even want it, pushing the brunette away at every turn. Her persistence and determination are what caught his interest, not that pretty face.

Appearances mean nothing to him, it's what's on the inside that really counts. She put on a good show for a while, pretending to be someone else until the cards were down. Once his 'good-looks' as she says, were ruined and the money dwindled, a completely different side appeared. It's strange. He's always been great at reading people, it's what helped him get by, yet he didn't see this back then.

Pursing her lips together, she looks away. There's no need to say it, he already knows the answer. Even if he rejects it altogether, refusing to listen to the words and actions that always follow...

_'... Stab it in deeper... I know you want to...'_

"_Say it_. Go ahead, Jeanie... Say. _It_." Pulling her hands away, she stands up and turns around to grab a few things off the shelf to throw in her bag. She doesn't care to even take anything they share or that he bought her. _Nope_. That fact stings in itself. The brunette doesn't want a single thing to remember him by...

"_No_." Not even bothering to turn around to at least say it to his face, she keeps shuffling around in her bag. "I don't... I'm sorry..."

A snort forces its way out, the only thing that's manageable at the moment. Of course, not... Who can? How could he even entertain the idea that she might keep her word or all promises after his face was carved open? Part of him hoped things could stay the same, but knew they wouldn't.

The way Jeanie's eyes shift every time he looks at her, makes his chest ache. The same way she closes them when they're in bed together or how she turns away, preferring to have her back to him when he just wants to see her pretty face... It was always a source of comfort, now it only inflicts pain.

"What are you going to do? Where will you go? I don't have much money to-"

"Don't worry about it. I don't need your money..." Her words are fast and sharp, like a switchblade, while she swings the bag over her shoulder. Jack's brows furrow, watching her carefully. She...doesn't need his money? Isn't that what this whole thing is mostly about? Aside from his damaged face?

"What do you _mean_?" It's not that he doesn't know about it. God, he _knows_, but always refuses to admit it to himself. Sometimes a lie is easier to accept, than the cold truth.

"Come on, Jack. Do you think I'm that stupid?" She lets out an exasperated breath, shaking her head in annoyance as the dark tresses dance around her pale face. "I never do anything, without having a Plan B."

A chuckle pushes through his lips, unable to stop his shoulders from slumping. Of course... She wouldn't be leaving so easily if there wasn't. He suspected it for a while now but didn't want to believe it. Just deluding himself, despite all the signs saying otherwise.

"I have to go... Bye, Jack." Without another glance, she steps towards the doorway and walks through it, not bothering to close it on the way out. The floorboards in the hall and stairs creak under the weight, letting him know that she really is leaving.

* * *

Joker bolts upright in bed, sweating profusely.

"What... the _hell_..." Running a hand over his face, he wipes away the sweaty locks sticking to his skin. His chest heaves with the harsh breaths forcing their way out, looking around wildly.

That dream... It's been years since it reared its ugly head. He usually doesn't sleep much, but that was one of the _last_ things he wants to see in the pitch-black darkness. Why the hell does it show up now of all times? It's more than irritating, grating on his nerves. Of all the people he's met over the years and the ones he killed, why does _she_ have to pop up?

A grimace twists his tired features as he angrily yanks off the blanket covering his bare chest. This is the first time in a while that he's taken a little nap during the day and it ends up turning into a complete shit show.

He never regrets killing Jeanie... _Nope_. Or her cocky little boyfriend. Those are fond memories he stored in the vault for a rainy day. That's where they belong. People like that deserve what's coming to them and that's exactly what they got.

"Are you...okay?" The soft voice across the hall makes him squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to ignore it. Of all the times she decides to talk to him or start-up their banter, why does she have to choose _now_? His head isn't all together and he just woke up.

Glaring up towards the other cell, his dark eyes widen when he sees her sitting next to the glass, on the floor. Those thin arms wrap around her knees that are pulled up close to her chest. Staring at him curiously, Sakura lays her head down against the crook of her arm. When he doesn't answer, her lips shift and she arches a brow.

_'What is she doing?'_

Usually, the pinkette lays sprawled out across the bed or reads a book with her back propped up against the side, but doesn't just _sit_ by the door like this.

Throwing her a suspicious look, he shifts on the bed, trying to run scenarios through his head of what she might be up to. Though he doesn't know much about the strange woman, one thing's for sure: _he can't trust her_.

There are too many things that don't add-up and several missing pieces. Someone who can paralyze and beat a person up one minute, only to caress and heal them the next, is _absolutely_ dangerous.

At least it's not a surprise when he kills someone. It's pretty straight-forward that's the endgame with him. There's no other way about it. If someone runs into him at the wrong moment, it's understood they're going to die. The only thing that might differ is the _way_ it happens, which depends on his mood at the time.

This woman... There's no way of knowing for sure what's going to happen. Just watching and listening to her could give anyone whiplash. Perhaps that's what makes this more interesting.

Joker can still feel her hand on his chest... The warmth radiating through the fabric of his jumpsuit and spreading throughout his body. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. So soothing, calming, a soft whisper in his ear, saying that everything's going to be okay.

It makes him want to scream and claw out his own throat. His stomach turns from thinking about it. The clown could almost _taste_ the emotions rolling off whatever sorcery she performed. He's never seen anything like it. A green glow emitting from her hands and moving through his body, mending and fixing any damage in its wake.

There are others with special abilities, he's seen them with his own eyes in the dark parts of the underground. Whether criminal or on the side of "justice", it isn't something new. Meta-humans, people who can fly, superhuman strength, humanoids whose appearance transformed from experiments gone wrong... There are quite a few of them right here, in the asylum.

Joker thought he's seen it all. Well, anything _worth_ seeing. However, it was nothing like this. The pinkette is strange and not just in physical appearance. The way she speaks and the things she does is different from most people. It's…_intriguing_, to say the least.

"Did you hear me, asshole?" He quirks a brow at her words with a scoff, feeling the anger returning with a vengeance. No, she isn't intriguing... Not at all. Just another stupid woman that needs to die.

_'Just like Jeanie...'_

No. Sakura's nothing like that woman. The only thing those two have in common is what happens to be between their legs.

_'Well, I hope they don't have that in common… Jeanie was a sl-ut before I met her.'_

Shaking the thought from his head, a growl tears through his throat, wanting to smash his head against the glass. The last thing he wants to think about was the brunette _or_ what the pinkette has between her legs.

_'Play nice... You have to play nice to get the witch to let her guard down...'_

That's the only way he can get to her. It's painfully clear that a head-on attack will result badly for him. While he can be reckless and pull unorthodox stunts, the clown's not an idiot. Unlike all his previous victims, this one has to be handled with care and strategic planning.

_'Can't let her be the one to end me... Couldn't go to hell laughing that way.'_

Pushing himself off of the bed, Joker staggers slightly, trying to gain his balance. His body feels weird, but not necessarily in a bad way. Stretching his arms high above his head, a drawn-out groan leaves his lips. Part of him expected some sort of pain to be shooting from somewhere on him, but there isn't. That woman… She truly did heal him.

Twisting his torso to crack his back, it feels surprisingly great... Everything's moving the way it's meant to. Why did she do it? Or is this a trick? Will something fall off when he least expects it? That witch's magic is unpredictable, not trustworthy. Not if it's coming from _her_...

_'Perhaps, she's trying to get _me_ to lay _my_ guard down...'_

Eyeing the woman behind the glass, he steps towards his own, taking a seat on the floor. From his experience with people, there's nothing genuine about them. The only ones he can be sure of are criminals and murderers. At least with them, he can expect a knife in the back and has a better idea of when it's coming.

Pink hair falls down the front of her orange jumpsuit when she rocks back, watching him just as carefully. He hates that look... The one that feels as if she's reading his mind while she smiles like there's some kind of inside joke he's not privy to.

_'Witch...'_

"Ya know... Ya have a pretty dirty mouth for a woman. A lady should have _some_ manners..." Those green eyes light up when he speaks like she was waiting for him to start this off.

"Well... Next time I run into one, I'll let them know what the "Great Clown Prince of Cheap" expects ladies to be like." The chuckle coming from her pink lips is like nails on a chalkboard, making goosebumps prickle his skin.

_'Why does that bother me so much?'_

"How do you feel? It doesn't hurt anymore, right?" Dark eyes narrow at her question. He isn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that his body feels better than it has in years... No _fucking_ way. His mind can already picture the smug look on her face as she sneered at him.

_'Play nice. Get her guard down. Make her talk...'_

"That sorcery of yours... You really are a witch. _Hmm?"_ Cocking his head to the side, a grin pulls at the cracked skin of his scars, while he waits for a response. If she answers, that's more he can use against her. There's no doubt she's a witch, but even they have weaknesses.

Licking his lips, Joker can barely contain himself. He can't wait to see that pious little woman beneath him, begging pathetically to let her live. Hearing her screams... Tasting the blood from all the slashes he'll make along that creamy, white skin. The fear in those striking green eyes as she cries out to him…

_'Fuck...'_

The thought alone is almost enough to do him in right there, making his heart pound erratically in a way it hasn't for years. Dirty nails dig deep into his palms as he watches the pinkette, remembering the way her neck felt in his grasp.

It should've been an easy kill, but she proved him wrong. That only made this a challenge worth taking. If she wasn't so cunning and strange, the cell across the hall would've been empty. Out of all the people he's wanted to kill, this is the most entertaining...and irritating.

"I'm not a _witch_..." Sakura's delicate face twists in annoyance. Apparently, she doesn't like being called that. One more thing to keep a mental note of that will be useful for later.

"Then what are you? What do you call _this_?" Joker can feel the adrenaline running through his body, filling him with an energy that's making him restless. Scooting closer to the glass, he settles into a 'comfortable' spot, as if there's such a thing in Arkham. Crossing his legs to sit Indian-style, his knee already starts bouncing and it annoys him. He can never sit still, not completely. His body is always full of tension and he tries releasing it by cracking his neck, but it's still there. It haunts him consistently, like a goddamn ghost.

Will she seriously reveal that kind of information to someone like _him_? Really add another nail into her own coffin? Excitement grips him and his nails dig deeper into his palms, close to drawing blood.

"I'm-" She trails off, looking away from him. Her lips shifted and she stares at the wall in silence, probably mulling over what to reveal. Sakura's always careful with details and will choose her words carefully. Unlike most people, the pinkette won't just blurt out anything that comes to mind.

The urge to bang his head against the glass is overwhelming, wanting her to spill _it_. To tell him exactly what he's dealing with to finally end this mystery...to end the intrigue. The anticipating is building up inside, threatening to spill out into his reactions, but he tries to swallow it down.

Raising a hand in front of her face, the pinkette look at her nails, like something suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The clown wants to yell at her to knock it off and to stop dragging this shit out, yet he doesn't. Knowing her, it'll just give the witch an excuse to ignore him and pick up a book.

"...I'm just an inmate, like you."

A growl leaves his chest before he can stop it. What's this bitch playing at?! Leaving him in suspense, just to say something stupid like that... Taking a deep breath, he rolls his shoulders in another attempt to get rid himself of the tension. If anger takes over now, he won't find out anything and it will only end up with her laughing at him. No... He has to play this game carefully-_smart_.

Joker can be a patient man... Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to pull off half of the things he does. So, why's it so hard to do that around this woman? Something about her makes him foolish, unable to get his thoughts straight and act out recklessly. That in itself is dangerous, a perfect recipe for disaster.

"Why do you want to know? Huh? Trying to find out as much as you can for when you decide to kill me?" Dark eyes widen as she smirks, no longer finding whatever's on her nails so interesting anymore. "What? Do you think I don't know what you're doing? Playing nice to get me to let my guard down..."

_'What?... How?...'_

The breath stills in his chest at her words. There's no possible way she can know unless she's just good at reading people's intentions. It's not often he meets someone who can do that properly. The clown's face scrunches up, staring at her in disbelief. Is the witch able to read minds after all?

A laugh bounces off the walls of the cell as she throws her head back, smacking a small hand against her knee. Part of him just knows she isn't amused at the accusation. No... It's because she's right on point about his plans.

"Ahh..." Sighing, Sakura lays her head down against her arms again. Mirth dances in those bright orbs and she smiles _wide_. The sight is enough to send a chill up his spine, something that's almost impossible to accomplish. He's seen people ripped apart, men who turned into monsters, bowels on the floor, but none of that makes him cringe the way this woman does.

"That's okay. If it's you, I'm not worried. _Haha!"_ Rage claws at his gut, watching as she closes her eyes without a care in the world. Is she not concerned at all? Does she really think so little of him and what he can do?

"You're way too cocky, doll. No one is invincible. No. One..." Her arrogance will be her downfall. Everyone has a weakness, no matter how strong they are. Some are harder to find than others. Clearly, she's not the latter.

"I believe there's a misunderstanding, handsome. It's not that I think you _can't_ kill me." She grins, fiddling with the sleeve of the orange jumpsuit. Something about it makes the muscle in his cheek jump and he swipes his tongue over the forked scar on his bottom lip, trying to make the thought a fleeting one. "I'm just saying I don't mind if you're the one that does it."

_'What?!' _

Now, he knows she's playing games with him. If that was true, she wouldn't have stopped him last night. "_Liar_. All of you, ah, _women_ are always so full of shi-_t_."

Sakura lifts her head with a look of indignation plastered on her pretty face. "Me? _A_ _liar?..._ That's a bold claim. I haven't lied to you yet."

Joker says nothing as he stares her down, filtering through their conversations. Is she telling the truth? It's not like he knows yet how to tell when she's lying or not. Women can't be trusted; especially cunning ones like her. She cranes her neck forward and raises a brow as if expecting proof of his claim.

Where would he even start, if he can't determine the difference with her? With most people, he can tell when they're lying from their body language or the way they speak. People are always easy to read and pick apart, but this one's a little more difficult. He just needs more time...

"If that's true, then last night wouldn't have happened." Why didn't she just let him get it over with, then? This is just another way to try screwing with his head or lead him into a trap. It's better not to trust a word that comes from her mouth. Paranoia has gotten him this far for a reason. People are deceitful little monsters and will try to stab each other in the back when the chance presents itself.

"Hn. Just because I said I didn't mind if you do it, doesn't mean I'm ready yet. There's a time and place for everything, and this _isn't_ it. I'm sure you understand that concept better than most, no?" Joker wants to smack the sneer right off her face when it shows itself. Of course, he understands that! He just made the mistake of jumping the gun and allowing himself to get too excited. That is something he'll have to rectify. If a screw-up doesn't kill him, it becomes a lesson never forgotten.

"Better than you might realize, dollface. Believe it or not, I'm a patient man. I can wait..." It's his turn to smirk, snaking his tongue out to run along his scar. If that's what she wants, who's he to deny her? After all, he could be a gentleman if the situation calls for it.

"I knew you'd understand..." The pinkette leans her back up against the wall, letting out a soft sigh from those pink lips and closes her eyes. She's not going to take a nap now, right? They only just got started..."By the way... I'm not a _witch_, so don't call me that. I'm a medic..."

_'...A medic...?'_

Is that how Sakura refers to herself with what she can do with those weapons? The wheels in his head turn, going over what's fact and still unknown. Despite the fire she spits, the woman indeed healed his body this morning. She's able to paralyze his body from a single touch and reverse it with another. There's a stack of medical books lying on the floor next to the bed.

_'A medic...'_

Yes, that makes sense. It explains a lot but now leaves even more questions. Having knowledge of the human body and being able to manipulate it with some green power is different. She might be a medic, but there's more to it than just that.

"A medic, huh? That, ah… That explains a whole lot. Doesn't exactly help someone understand that little _thing_ you do, though." If she's gonna talk, might as well get her to spill out anything he can get his hands on.

"Hah. If we're going to get that personal, you're going to have to buy me dinner first." Joker watches the way her face lights up as she smiles, giggling softly at her own joke. Something tugs at the corners of his ruined mouth, almost pulling them into an expression he has to bite down on. No, he won't give her the satisfaction...

"Dinner's at five if you have the time." The clown barks out a laugh at his retort, letting it out before he even thinks of stopping it. He kills it as fast as it comes out, digging his teeth into the corded scar tissue along the inside of his cheek until the familiar metallic taste distracts him. Sucking the blood from the small wound, he hates the way this conversation is going but despises himself even more for starting to enjoy it.

No. This woman is just a deceitful liar trying to mess with his head. They all are... That's why he distrusts women above all else. There are only two things they're good for-manipulating and an occasional fuck. That. Is. I-_t_.

"All we have is time... You never answered my question, though." Grabbing a stray lock, she twirls it between her slim fingers, gazing at the ends. He wonders what kind of face the pinkette would make if she woke up to it all missing. Maybe she'd look more like a normal person. No, not even then...

Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly remembers how it felt between his own. Her hair was like silk running through his fingers. Perhaps he should've ripped out a chunk when he had the chance. It smelled nice... At least if he took some, it'd help get rid of the asylum's stench on the rare occasions he wants to relax, maybe get some sleep.

_'Next time...'_

"And what is that? _Hmm?_" Joke's voice is more playful, almost forgetting what she asked in the first place. His mind is still wrapping around the whole 'medic thing'. Perhaps he can humor a question or two if it's nothing big. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks she asked something about how he is. To be honest, it feels odd hearing someone say that. The only people that usually do are doctors, but they never really mean it. They use it as a way of starting a session or pretending to be polite. Most people don't actually care how another person is doing, but he can tell she wants to know, probably to see if her spell helped.

"I asked if you're okay? You were having a nightmare, right?" Dark eyes stare at her wildly, feeling the blood running through his veins turn to ice. He rarely has dreams at all anymore. Usually, he just lays his head down and drifts off into the darkness. No images or voices, nothing unwanted or desired popping up... Just _nothingness_. The first time anything happens in a long time, she has to know about it.

As if she can read his mind, the pinkette sits up and shifts closer to the hole in the glass. "I could hear..._noises_... Who's Jeanie?" Cocking her head to the side, she looks genuinely curious, making this even worse. He expected a sneer, maybe a cackle or something belittling. Nope. She's just sitting there, actually wanting to know if he's alright, after having a bad dream.

More often than not, he can't tell if she's lying, but something in his gut is telling him she means no harm, that the pinkette's just trying to be thoughtful. Perhaps Sakura thinks they have some sort of understanding from being in similar circumstances or what they've been through already. Maybe this is apart of who she really is and decided to let it out a little towards him for some ungodly reason. Or this can all be a ruse to distract him from the knife she's waiting to plunge in his chest. Who knows? Either way, he doesn't care.

Joker's expression turns murderous at the name coming from her lips. It's bad enough that bitch has to show herself after all these years, during the small reprieve he allowed himself to get some rest. Worst of all, now she gave the pink-haired succubus ammo to use against him.

_'Goddamn whore... Even now, she's still a pain in the ass.'_

"Sure. I'll fill ya in, dollface... _If_ you tell me about Sazzy cone." It was his turn to sneer when her eyes widen at what he just said. _Shock_. That's what her expression's screaming at him. There's nothing to suppress the giggle he lets out at this new emotion running unadulterated across her face...and he's loving every second of it.

_'Finally, I caught her off guard. Heh. Interesting...'_

Realizing what's been done, Sakura twists her face back into the empty mask she likes to wear, but it's too late. The clown's eyes are too quick and he saw it. If it was anyone else, they could've easily missed it, but he didn't. Just for an instant, there was a glint of surprise and a flash of anger.

"Never mind. Forget I said anything." Standing up, Sakura doesn't give him a second glance and walks away from the glass. Padding across the smooth floor, she jumps up onto the bed and lays down, facing the wall.

Without thinking, Joker _almost_ calls out to her. This is too damn good. Who would've thought that two little words can bring such a reaction from the "_Queen_" herself? Whatever this Sazzy cone is, it triggered something.

It came out last night when he was struggling in bed against the paralysis. With the hall being overmedicated and in a deep sleep, there wasn't much muttering and yelling going on from the other inmates.

A little while after "tucking" him in, Sakura must've fallen asleep. It was soft and quiet, just barely above a whisper, but the clown knows what he heard. In places like Arkham and Blackgate, a person's hearing gets pretty good, unless they want a surprise to sneak up on them.

"Mmm... Sasuke-kun..."

Whatever that is, it means something to that woman. More than likely, it's a person's name or a place. The way she said it wasn't out of anger, the way her eyes shown just now when he brought it up. It was probably a good thing that turned sour, that's the only explanation.

_'A person? Home? Friend?... Lover?'_

It has to be the former or latter based on _how_ she said it. The tone of a person's voice can give off much more than intended. Her words were whispered with a hint of sensuality. The way someone would call out to a lover..._probably_. At least, that's what it sounded like to his ears. Then again, he could be wrong, but that isn't usually the case.

Grinding his teeth, a small detail he wasn't thinking about suddenly dampers the good mood. Joker doesn't truly have the upper hand as he believed… Now they're just on a level playing field. The pinkette has something against him too. He did the same thing as her, except it sounded like he was having a nightmare-_as she puts it_.

Sakura has a name to bring up that will set his blood boiling... He possesses a similar weapon, but now it's a double-edged sword. Both of them don't know the history or circumstances behind those words and yet, it's still enough to draw out a reaction from each other.

_'Hearing her say that must've triggered my dream... That has to be it… There's no other logical explanation why it turned up, after all these years.'_

Dark eyes flicker over towards the woman lying on the bed, silently watching her. It feels out of character for Sakura to be like this, especially ending their little battle without her having the last laugh. That's the only real victory the clown has at the moment. Perhaps, that's good enough for now... He was hoping to pull more out of her since she seemed to be in a talking-mood, but that's all over now.

**_"Hn. Just because I said I didn't mind if you do it, doesn't mean I'm ready yet."_**

That's the most curious part of their exchange. She does want him to kill her, after all? Just not now? What does that even mean? Why doesn't she mind if it's him? Those words only serve to confuse and intrigue him even more.

Sakura is like a puzzle with all the pieces hidden around the house... The clown has to carefully look around _and_ under everything, just to find a _single_ piece. When he does find one and tries to figure out where it fits in the picture, he gets infuriated to find out it belongs to an entirely different puzzle altogether.

"Hmm..." Yep, she's definitely _nothing_ like Jeanie... Shockingly so. He always assumed all women are the same, cut from the same cloth. If it comes to clothing, he knows exactly what these two women would be. The brunette is like a pair of lace panties, pleasant at first glance until he realizes how many times they've been worn in a row. Sakura… She's a top-brand Kevlar vest, for sure. Strong, impenetrable, and will keep it together when shit hits the fan.

_'Heh.' _

"Hey, ass-clown..." The footsteps coming down the hall draw his attention away from the cell across from him. Joker groans in annoyance, leaning his up against the glass.

Harold stalks up to the glass and bangs his nightstick against it. What's the point? The clown's already sitting there, glaring up at him. It's not like he isn't already paying attention or sleeping. The buffoon just does it to piss him off…

"Doc wants you ready for a session, so back away from the door." The dark-haired man stands there with a smug look on his face, tapping the stick against his palm.

"What do ya mean? I just had one yesterday." Right now, he's really not in the mood to deal with the blonde. Aren't two sessions with her in a week good enough? The staff already have him doing other useless shit besides that, like dealing with those goddamn medications they keep trying to shove down his throat.

"Just shut up and step back. It's not like you have anything better to do. Right?" Dark eyes trail back towards the woman on the bed. A lecherous grin spreads across his ruined mouth and the guard follows his line of sight. It only takes a second for it to dawn on Harold what he means, before his face starts turning red with anger.

_'Too easy...'_

"Knock that shit off! You want a repeat of this morning? I'll be more than happy to remind you, but no one's gonna be able to fix that disgusting face of yours this time..." Smacking the nightstick against the glass, the guard's jaw shifts, and the clown can _see_ his blood pressure rising.

Joker sits back, laughing at how easy it is to mess around with these guards. It's not his fault, they practically hand him the ammo to his gun. If he thinks the pinkette would genuinely take an interest in someone like him, Harold is sadly mistaken. He's far too bland and manipulating him is child's play. Definitely not the kind of man that could stimulate her mind or carry on an interesting conversation with. _Hah_. Sakura has to dumb herself down or put on that fake sweet act just to deal with him.

_'He doesn't know the real her... What she's actually like...'_

"Sometimes, I'm a bit, ah, _forgetful_. What happened this morning?" Cocking his head to the side with a grin, Joker knows that his wounds are healed only enrages the guard even more. Doesn't this moron realize that it helped keep him out of trouble with good ol' Arkham? After all, the employees aren't _allowed_ to beat the inmates for fun, even if they do it anyway...

Skirting across the floor, the clown makes a wide-eyed exaggerated attempt to look at Sakura's cell, knowing it's pissing off Harold more than it really should. Sometimes it's fun to give an extra little push on that button everyone has. Harold's is just more apparent than others.

"You piece of shit! I told you to quit it!" He hisses through his clenched teeth, gripping the nightstick hard enough his knuckles are turning white. There's rage and loathing painted all over his stony face. It's all directed towards the inmate sitting cross-legged on the floor, bursting out into hysterics over the reactions he's getting.

"Ha! You think it's funny, fuckface?" Taking deep breaths, Harold's visibly trying to calm himself down. Anytime the clown's involved, it's almost impossible to keep his cool... A sneer spreads across his face and Joker assumes it means there's a beat-down waiting for him on the way to the session for this. It's worth it, though...

_"Yeah."_ The clown doesn't care. There's nothing these fools can do to cause him real pain. Unless they decide to flay him alive, he's not interested. Boy, would _that_ be an interesting turn of events? Can Sakura heal that too? What about missing limbs?

"You know what _is_ funny? No matter how long you stare over there-" Harold points his thumb over his shoulder, towards where the pinkette is. "She's never gonna want to look back at a _scarred-up freak_ like you. I'm sure you understand that, right? A woman like _that_ will never be interested in some mangled monster. Hopefully, you can remember _that_, scumbag."

"HAHAHAWOOHAA! _Hoo boy_, ya got me there!" The guard's eyes widen from watching the Joker rocking back and forth on the floor, laughing hysterically. For a moment, Harold thinks the clown's face is going to split at the seams, that the corners of his scarred mouth are about to tear right open.

Despite the theatrics, Joker feels something clawing at his gut, agitating him. He's used to being called names, that's a daily occurrence in places like this. On the streets... Well, that's a different story altogether. Harold's throat would've been slashed _before_ he finished the insult.

"That's right, don't forget that either..." Three other people are coming down the hall, he can hear their shoes tapping against the floor. They're pushing something with wheels, probably a gurney. "...Fucking scarred-up _freak_..." Harold keeps muttering under his breath, glaring as the men get closer.

"I can _hear_ you guys..." Sakura's voice breaks the guard's angry mask the guard has plastered on. His expression quickly switches into one of embarrassment at the realization that she's been awake this whole time.

Sitting up on the bed, the pinkette throws Harold an annoyed look when he turns around to face her. Noticing she doesn't spare him a single glance, the clown spits on the floor, not caring it's his own cell he's doing it in.

"Shit, sorry... You shouldn't have to hear that..." The change in tone is enough to make anyone cringe. How can he go from threatening an infamous criminal to having his mouth dripping honey in seconds? All over _one_ woman? Does she have his balls in her pocket or something? Or is he worried he might ruin his chances of getting some pussy in the shower room?

_'Like a goddamn puppy-dog worried that his owner's mad at him for pissing on the carpet... Pathetic...'_

Dark eyes watch the pink-haired woman pushing herself off the bed and striding over towards the glass. Thin arms cross over her chest, scrutinizing the man in the hall.

_'Not even gonna look at me, huh?'_

"It's not nice to talk about people just because you think they're not listening… _Is it?"_ She arches a brow, twisting her lips to the side as she steps closer to the door. It's clear she's agitated from her posture and tone, but the clown isn't sure if it's really over what Harold said about her. If anything, the man was complimenting Sakura. When she shifts her head to the side, Joker watches the pink hair fall over her shoulder and cascade down the front of the orange jumpsuit. Yeah, he definitely should've taken some.

"I-...It's...He..." Harold's out-stretched hands defensively fly up in front of him, almost like he hopes they can make the situation better. He stutters in a failing attempt to rectify his mistake, and the clowns loving it. Witnessing the guard turning into a blubbering mess from his master reprimanding him just might be the highlight of the day.

"Harold! Come on, man. We gotta go..." Derek weasels into the Joker's peripheral, pulling something along with Jerry. A small man he's never seen before is with them. From the looks of it, he must be a nurse or orderly, since he's wearing scrubs.

_'Oh, joy…'_

A gurney is swung in front of the cell, just barely smacking into the glass. Thick, dark straps hang from the sides, dangling down. Is it a coincidence, after the incident that happened earlier? Or is he just over-thinking everything as usual?

"Now, we're talkin'!" It was only a matter of time before one of these bad boys showed up. Usually, it's one of the first things to make an appearance, besides a straight jacket and the guards themselves.

"Shut up... Now, back away from the glass. We're on a tight schedule here..."


	10. Touch

The doors along the walls fly by, not that he cares. The guards actually _do_ seem to be in a rush.

The only thing they took their time with, is making sure the straps holding him down to the gurney are _nice_ and _tight_. Joker couldn't help growling out when the buffoons yanked those thick restrains as hard as they could, far more than necessary. There was already a straight jacket pinning his arms down, so what's the deal with the extra accessories? The threads were a given, as part of the agreement the blondie has with the staff for any time he's being escorted.

The clown can already feel his arms going numb from the black straps effectively cutting off his circulation. They wrap around his forehead, shoulders, torso, hips, and legs. It's _incredibly_ uncomfortable... He wants to ask where they got these from. It would be a nice addition to his toy collection.

Harold and Derek are none too gentle rounding the corners of the halls, making sure to bang the gurney with every chance that presents itself. Apparently, they didn't appreciate the jokes about 'safety words' when they were strapping him in. The fact that Harold's the only one that knew what he was referring to is curious in itself. A nice little tidbit for later on...

_"Heheheh..."_ The clown's smile doubled in size when the nurse following alongside the gurney flinched at the noise. This is more like it... He's been wondering why the asylum's seemed so lax in their treatments compared to before. Aside from the bulletproof glass doors on the cells, things appeared less..._extreme_ than they used to.

Joker knew it was only a matter of time. After all, this is still _Arkham,_ despite who's running it now. They switched one nut for another, this one just has a shinier shell.

_'Ya know what they say about apples, right?'_

When they rolled past the familiar door on the left and keep heading towards the end of the hall, his brows furrow in confusion. He lets out an exaggerated cough to get the guard's attention.

"Hey, boys... I know you're not too good at aiming, but I think you, ah, _missed_ the hole again."

"Shut up. We're not going to your girlfriend's office." Derek leans over the side into the clown's view and grimaces. With how tight the straps are, he can barely turn his head any which way.

_'So... We're not paying Harley a visit... Goodie.'_

Joker tries to get comfortable, figuring he'll probably be in this for a while. If they aren't going to see Harley, who'd be a little more sympathetic towards his needs, then this is going to be it. The blonde would be horrified seeing him tied up like this. He can picture her face twisting in anger as she yells at the guards, saying they're not allowed to treat him like an animal. The thought is _literally_ enough to make him laugh, bringing out another spasm from the male nurse.

Harley is so naive, but it's helpful. There's no doubt that he's already dug his claws into the little blonde, and that she might come into play when the time calls for it. Another lonely, desperate woman that's looking for someone to understand who she truly is, despite not entirely know that person, either. She's unsure of herself and what's truly inside, leaving her open for another to mold. An empty canvas, yearning for an artist to come and create her into their masterpiece, to become something grander than she can even be on her own.

This won't be much of a challenge. It's not a game he's particularly interested in playing, but sometimes a person needs to beat a level that isn't worth their time, to move up to the next one. The problem is that she has too many weaknesses, even if she doesn't realize it. The doctor's too caught up in trying to figure out her patients and help them, the bigger picture's not view. It's like building a bridge between two castles to make an alliance, but forgetting to make sure her own defenses are sturdy enough, in case the other person reneges and starting sending arrows her way.

Dr. Quinzel hasn't made herself as strong as she believes when it comes to dealing with men, like the Joker. Supposing that she's aware of what's happening, that desperate need to be understood and appreciated tugs at her, even if that smart, little brain she has says otherwise. All the pain is worth the small rays of sunlight that _might_ shine through her cloudy life, as long as she hangs in there and endures.

_'Sweet, innocent Harley just wants someone to hold and love her. A person that's interesting to talk too, who won't judge or hold her to a certain standard. Hah...'_

Joker knows her type all too well. She's a woman that feels trapped in a world she never really felt apart of... Always forcing herself to do things to please others, hoping their praise and recognition will eventually bring some satisfaction to her otherwise, boring life. Adventure, mystery, freedom... The blondie wants an adrenaline rush and to break away from the restraint's society has pinned her down with. That's why she volunteered to become his doctor, even if she hasn't realized it yet. The unknown is what draws her in and makes it _so_ enticing.

_'I'd put a quarter down that I could have her on her knees in two more weeks...maybe less.'_

_Easy._

He doesn't want easy. Actually, he doesn't really want much of anything. That's not high-up on the priority list. If there's a choice between having a confrontation with the Bat or a wild toss in the sheets, that wouldn't be a hard one. He'll take a bloody knife fight any day of the week and come back for seconds.

Violence makes his black heart skip a beat in ways that a woman never could. They are deceptive, little creatures that are just as bad as men, only better at hiding it behind their makeup and clothing.

_'Especially the witch...'_

Unlike Harley, who he can read through those blue eyes and descriptive body language, Sakura's far more intelligent, degree in psychology or not. If he were to get into a fist-fight with that beast, he's fairly certain she wouldn't show the same restraint or mercies the Bat does.

From the way she dragged and tossed him around, there's no doubt she possesses inhuman physical strength. Someone like that, who isn't as forgiving as the flying rat, is dangerous to dance with. Trying to trick her would be incredibly difficult, not an easy feat by any means.

The doctor and pinkette are two very different women. There's almost no comparison between them, like with Jeanie. Each one has their own set of goals and ways of achieving them. The brunette sought happiness through material possessions, feeding into the lie's society shoves down their throats and was willing to play hardball to make it happen. Harley's secretly begging for attention and someone to guide her, hoping they'll show her the way and breathe life into her dismal existence.

Sakura… doesn't seem to share the same desires. If anything, it's more like she's trying to throw all those things away. It makes him curious about what kind of person she was, before coming here. Why is she even here in the first place? There must be something she's running from. If he possessed that kind of strength, he would have been out of here already. Not only that, but the pinkette also says she wants him to kill her... _If_ that's the truth.

Does she truly think her life has no value? What could she be waiting for to happen, before she's willing to hand it over? As much pleasure as it will bring to end that pink stain, he doesn't like the idea of being used to accomplish her goals. If anything, it makes him angrier. The Joker isn't a puppet that can be manipulated into doing other's dirty deeds. He does things because he _wants_ to, not because someone _orders_ it.

_'Little minx...'_

Staring up towards the ceiling, the dim lights in the hall speed by as they drag him down another hallway. Where the hell are they going? The layout's familiar, but this side of the asylum must've been upgraded, since the last time he was here. Guess the funds are starting to go into the facility, instead of just being pocketed.

"Here we are..." Jerry runs alongside the gurney to get the door, wrenching it wide open for the other two pushing it through.

The room is _blindingly_ white, making the clown squint from the blaring lights on the ceiling. Unlike the hallways and cells, this room's completely different. He can tell the walls have been painted recently and the staff couldn't resist using such a stereotypical color for a looney bin. White, white, fucking _white_. He can't express that enough, because the back of his eyes are aching just from looking at it. Couldn't they use a calming shade of blue or even peach? Maybe purple, but that's out of the question. After all, the staff can't have anyone relaxing with what they plan on doing in here. That's clear from the variety of familiar equipment in the corners.

_'Oh, fun...'_

"Mr. J..." The soft voice in the across the room makes his ears perk up as the guards swing the gurney around.

Harley's standing there with a grim expression, pursing her lips together and holding onto a clipboard just a little _too_ tight. A bad omen if he's ever seen one... Are they taking her off the case? Is that why they brought him to _this_ room? To introduce the new psychiatrist and they want him to see the blonde hand over his files to rub it in?

This might be a little change in plans, but nothing he can't deal with. The strings are already tied and even if they don't have their usual sessions, she will still come to him...of her _own_ accord.

"Why didn't you say anything? I was trying to help you..." Stepping closer towards the gurney, the blonde seems more upset, than actually angry. It doesn't matter to him. He scoffs out loud at the idea that she thinks it might. Some people don't learn.

"Never been much of a rat, pumpkin. Not 'bout to, ah, _start now_." A grin tugs at the scarred corners of his mouth when she looks away, visibly distraught.

"Figures. Sometimes you can be a fool, Mr. J. You need to learn how to trust people that have your best interests at heart." The hurt in her voice is apparent as she opts to stare at the wall behind him. Is just looking at him painful for her, right now?

_'Hah.'_

"_Do_ you have my best interests at heart? Or are they _yours_?" She snaps her head back with an incredulous look on her features, almost like he just slapped her across that pretty face with his words alone. Those blue eyes are wide and clear, easy to pass through, and take a look inside. Joker can see the wheels turning as she tries to read him, mulling over what he just said.

"I've tried to do _everything_ I can for you, as your psychiatrist, but you're making this more difficult for yourself than it needs to be!" She hisses under her breath, quickly glancing towards the guards shuffling something around. They're out of his view, so he can't tell what's exactly going on. "If you don't want this to get worse, at least act like you're making progress... Dr. Arkham's been watching and thinks he can help you. Biting the nurse in your cell only proves his point!"

"HAHAHAHA!" The gurney shakes under the rumble of his laughter, making it harder to breathe with the straps pushing in deeper. The metallic taste is still in his mouth. So is the image of the nurse's horrified face when he latched onto his hand, digging his teeth into the man's flesh. One thing the staff can't say is that he doesn't have a strong jaw.

"That's what he gets for trying to put a needle in my neck. I, ah, don't take kindly to someone trying to stick things in me. _I'm_ the one who does that." The lump on his forehead is still pulsing where the nightstick smashed him in the face. It doesn't hurt, just fucking annoying.

Joker doesn't miss the way her cheeks flush at that or how she averts her gaze. His grin widens at how easy it is to affect this woman. Is she like this with other men or just him?

"...All that accomplished is the nurse being replaced with another _and_ you're in trouble. Please, for both of our sakes... Try to cooperate. It'll make things so much easier for us..."

"_Us_?" Blue eyes widen when she realizes the implications and misunderstanding her words can cause. How careless… This is just too damn good. "So, does that make _us_ a 'thing', my little pumpkin pie?_ Hmm? _Is tha-_t_ what you're saying?"

"Absolutely _not_... I meant as patient and doctor, of course. Please, get your head out of the gutter and be serious, Mr. J. Like I said, I'm trying to help you, but you're making this _very_ difficult." He knows she's only saying that in case the guards are listening. The gleam in her eyes told him enough to know what's going on in that little blonde head of hers. "Enough with the jokes and games! You'll be seeing things our way soon enough."

Gritting her teeth, she slams the clipboard down on the counter and stalks out of the door. The doctor is embarrassed and angry, that's why she's acting like this. His laughter follows her out of the door, bouncing off the walls of the white room.

"Patient 0801..." A light brown-haired man with glasses walks in a few seconds after Harley stormed off. He's older than the clown, and from the ramrod-straight posture and how his hands are clasped behind the long white coat he was wearing, Joker already hates him.

_'Hmm...'_

His dark eyes narrow on the middle-aged doctor, trying to get a good look, despite barely being able to move his head. _Ah. _That face… It's similar to his uncle's, but he recognizes him without that little bit. Yep, he knows this bastard.

"Jerry! Nice to see ya again! How's the family doing?_ Hmm?" _The clown barks out a laugh at the reference, knowing damn well how that's going. The newer head of the asylum doesn't crack a smile or seems willing to acknowledge anything he says, silently striding over towards the counter.

_'Still as dull as ever…'_

The actual Jerry's face turns into a grimace when he pushes a cart alongside the gurney. "_I'm_ Jerry. You shouldn't refer to Dr. Arkham like that..."

"No, you're not. You're _no_ _one_." Tracing the forked scar below his lip, Joker relishes in the guard's annoyance, watching the muscles around his jaw contract. The man wants to retort or say something but refrains with the 'boss' standing right there.

"Patient 0801." The good doctor pulls a chair up next to the gurney with a clipboard in hand. The clown shifts his eyes to get a better look at him. "I don't want to assume that Dr. Quinzel has mentioned the treatment plan we're working on for you, but I will be filling you in."

Joker rolls his eyes, muttering to himself and glancing back up towards the ceiling. This is always the part where the doctor drones _on_ and _on_, stating what they're expecting from him and what they have planned, leaving out the fun stuff, of course.

"Dr. Quinzel will continue having two sessions per week with you. From now on, you will alternate having two with me as well. This way, we can keep them spread out and avoid becoming monotonous. On the fifth day, there will be a weekly assessment of the progress that's been made. I feel your _treatment_ hasn't been nearly as fruitful as I hoped it would be at this point." The doctor pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, speaking in a stern tone and doing a great job at ignoring the exaggerated groans and sighs coming from the man next to him. "That is the reason why I'm stepping in, but allowing you to keep your current psychiatrist. A familiar face may be helpful since you're already acquainted and from the reports, you seem the most responsive towards her..."

"Wonderful, Doc. Any other good news?" The clown wants to crack his neck or roll his shoulders around, at least to get some of the tension out. Now that he can't, it makes him want to do it even more.

"Our goal here is rehabilitation and hopefully someday reintegrate you back into society. Attacking a nurse trying to help you doesn't show much promise and indicates to us what stage you're at. As is, you're a danger to yourself and others, with little hope of applying any effort to aid in your own recovery. I've read all the reports and files on you, Patient 0801. Unlike Dr. Quinzel, I won't be as lenient..."

Dark eyes skirt back towards the older man scrutinizing him from behind the glasses. Maybe this will turn out to be more interesting after all. The clown knows a threat when he hears one.

"That's great to hear, Jerry! When do we start? I'm 'bout to burst at the seams with _excitement_!" Pulling his lips back to bare his teeth, the laughter shakes the gurney, letting the hysterics take over before they start whatever this man has planned. The doctor's eyes narrow into slits, taking in his appearance with barely suppressed disgust. This is a mild version of how everyone reacts to his pretty smile, not that he gives a shit.

"We will begin the treatment process now. That's why you've been brought here." The nurse that replaced the one he bit earlier, steps up alongside the gurney with an anxious look on his face. The clown laughs harder knowing how uncomfortable it makes the young man. The raucous sounds quickly fade when he sees the long syringe between his fingers. A cold alcohol pad swipes the side of his neck from someone standing behind his head.

In seconds, Joker goes from being amused to completely _rabid_. No way is he letting them stick that needle in him. From his experience, nothing good ever comes from one of those.

Baring his teeth, a snarl rips through his throat and the straps dig in deeper as he thrashes. He snaps his jaw wildly, ready to tear into any of them that comes too close and scaring the young male nurse.

"Get that thing _away_ from me..." The guttural growl is enough to get the blonde-haired man to take a few steps back. He trembles from watching the clown foaming at the mouth, acting like a wild animal.

"Guards, please restrain the patient." Jeremiah's voice is calm, not bothered in the slightest at the scene unfolding before him. Unlike the others, he has far more experience with this kind of behavior.

Hands come down, pushing his head and shoulders down against the gurney. Despite his best efforts to at least shift away or take a finger with him, they have him pinned. The straps and straight jacket already make it so he can barely move, now he really can't at all.

Dark eyes widen when the quaking nurse steps forward, holding a syringe _filled_ to the brim with a yellow-tinted liquid.

_"Fuck!"_ He curses and tries to flail, panting heavily from the effort and restraints making it hard to breathe. "You little shit! If you put that thing in my neck, I swear I'll slit your goddamn throat!" The nurse and the guards are going to pay for this, that's for sure... The good doctor too. It seems like a good time to rearrange the to-do list in his head...

A growl that turns into a shout causes two of the guards to flinch when the syringe pierces his neck. It pinches as the tip breaks the skin and part of him wonders if they picked the longest, thickest one just for this special occasion. It's not the first, second, or even third time having to go through this, so he has firsthand experience of what the standard is. This is _not_ it. Not by a long shot...

Maybe it's because the syringe is bigger than necessary, or perhaps the person administering it has trembling hands...but this sure as hell doesn't feel right.

The spot where the needle entered is on _fire_ and they hold it there, pushing the plunger all the way down. The yellow-tinted liquid feels like ice running through his veins and a shiver courses through his body.

Breathing hard through clenched teeth, his muscles start becoming lax and useless. He glares at anyone in view, too angry to communicate his unbridled anger vocally at this point. They will all die terrible deaths in the near future. _Very_ near...

A tongue depressor with something cold rubs against his temples and any attempt at lashing out is foiled by the hands holding him down. His body doesn't have the strength now to tear a limb off and that only pisses him off more. The clown hates not having control over his own body, leaving him at the mercy of anyone present. It's detestable…unforgivable. They're all going to pay for this.

"You're, ah, gonna have to use _a little_ more Astroglide than tha_-t_. Please be gentle, it's my first time..." Even as angry as he is, he can still find it in him to make a joke. There's always room for a _good_ one.

"It's conductant, Patient 0801. Instead of trying to fight your treatment, it would be in your best interest to "get with the program", as they say." Jeremiah must be enjoying this. The man's definitely an Arkham, through and through.

Dark eyes widen when one of the nurses that joined the group holds a black electrode in each hand, a visibly _firm_ grasp on the handles. Before Joker can get another word out, someone jams in a mouthguard, causing him to sputter as he tries to spit it out.

"If I were you, I would keep that in my mouth. We don't want to cause any more damage to your teeth, then you've already done. Besides, if you bite your tongue off, we won't get much out of our sessions." The head of the asylum is standing close to the gurney, rubbing his chin and watching everything closely, like he's observing some kind of science experiment in a lab. Maybe that's what this is to him.

_"Do it."_

Without further preamble, the sandy-haired tech places them against the clown's temples. Electric currents enter his head through the electrodes and his eyes almost pop out of their sockets. His body convulses, shaking the entire gurney under his weight. A muffled scream rings out while a smug look spreads across the doctor's face.

Joker _almost_ can't believe this. Usually, doctors at least completely numb a patient or put them out entirely to do a procedure like this. This is too much like being in the old Arkham with Amadeus...

The room is spinning on a dime as his head bangs against the hard surface beneath him. It feels as if the entire world itself is twirling, like when someone slaps a globe and watches it go round and round. Maybe a Ferris wheel on the highest speed would be a better analogy since everyone enjoys reminding him what a goddamn clown he is.

Every muscle involuntarily shaking with spasms as the electrodes are left on longer than is probably even legal. They're close to tearing themselves from his bones, just to get away from what's being done to them. His skin's on fire, he knows all too well what that feels like. There are scars to prove it. The current doesn't stop, and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

_'The vault... Put anything important in the vault, before it's gone...'_

The fact that he can even string together a single thought just shows how many times he's done this. It was a favorite pastime of Amadeus'. This isn't his first rodeo and probably not his last. They aren't going to take his memories away and try to erase everything that makes him the Joker. He'll be damned...

The tech pulls his hands back and he glances towards the doctor for instruction. The clown's eyes fall back into place and traveled in the older man's direction, trying to see through the blur that's distorting everything. Blinking a few times, he can just make out the expression on Jeremiah's face, who seems to be getting some sick enjoyment out of this.

"Make sure to give the patient a _thorough_ exam when we're finished..."

"Yes, sir."

Joker heaves, his head and chest feeling heavy as sweat trickles down to his neck. This machine's more advanced and stronger than the old ones they used back in the day_._ He isn't going to let them break him, no matter how hard they try. Time and time again, when he finds himself in these places, they always do the same procedures with no luck. If anything, it only serves to fuel his anger _that_ much more...

As he predicted, the tech's hands return with his toy, pressing them back down and sending another current. His body seizes up, the restraints digging deep into his shaking limbs and making it impossible to even breathe.

Everything's starting to go black as the room spins again. He feels like one of those burning blades the Samoan Ailao uses in their fire dances. Only the flame is so hot, it burns pitch-black.

Reality seems like a distant luxury he could never afford. Is he really going to have it taken from him? The little bit he tried to hold onto all this time? No. Joker won't let these bastards to that. The world's sucked enough out and he's done playing this game.

_'Focus on something... Anything...'_

Joker's eyes roll right back into his head, having no control of anything. All he can do now is try to save the only thing no one is capable of physically touching... His _mind_.

_'Focus...'_

Knives, guns, blood dripping... Screams, frightened faces, gasoline... Buildings burning to the ground... Batman, fistfights, explosions...

_'Focus.'_

Warm hands, comfort...soothing...healing...safety. He's safe here...That's right. No one can touch this part. They can't take this... Conversations, smug looks, and insults... Excitement, rest, contentment... Something familiar, yet so different...

_'No, not tha-t...'_

Joker doesn't want to see her… Not _now_. Why does she always have a way of showing up at the _worst_ times? Then again, it wouldn't be her if she didn't do that. No one has better fucking timing that can drive him straight up a wall.

He can see her face in his mind. She has that disapproving look and clicks her tongue, staring right at him. It almost makes him laugh, but nothing comes out. She shakes her head, whipping that pink hair around. Yeah, he should've taken some… The pinkette's saying something, her voice too soft even for his keen ears to pick up on. A laugh spills out and she raises a hand to cover her mouth. Is she insulting him _again_? Even now?

_'I can't stand her...'_

Sakura gives him a knowing look, the one he hates the most. That one that feels like she understands what he's going through and makes his chest tighten, even as the straps dig in deeper. A smile spreads across her face and she lowered that dainty hand he always wants to break. For some reason... It's comforting in a similar way to the green glow she used to mend his wounds. Like everything's going to be okay. This isn't so bad, right? He can take it...

They can't take anything from him unless he lets them.

Words are being exchanged, but he pays them no mind. There's no doubt another dose is coming, but he'll be prepared _this_ time. A hand reaches down and tugs on the mouthguard he's biting on. Their grasp tightens on the little rubber tongue sticking out, strategically place there, so no one has to get close enough he can bite their fingers off.

"Let _go_..." A nightstick whacks him in the ribs, forcing him to loosen his grip enough for the nurse to yank it out.

"Patient 0801… Are you still with us? Anything you would like to say?" The doctor's voice has a condescending bite to it, something that wouldn't be there if he _really_ knew who he was dealing with. This man isn't a psychiatrist, not a real one. He's just as mad as the people he's treating, carefully hiding it behind the glasses and long, white coat.

"Yeah..." Joker's voice is strained and raspy to his own ears. He can't even feel his jaw moving as the words come out.

"Does this thing go any higher? _HAHAHAHA!"_

* * *

It's quiet now..._too_ _quiet_. No more yelling, no shrieking, or cursing. Nothing being thrown or small hands smacking him. No one tearing at his skin or hair. And yet... He wishes it wasn't this way. Even if it's hurtful, he doesn't mind it. There's no such thing as love that doesn't come with pain. It's far better than being alone.

A car honks outside of the building and Jack slowly stands up, finally getting off the mattress. He knows what's out there. There's really no reason to go look, but part of him has to. To see is to believe.

Boots stomp across the wooden boards beneath him and he grimaces at the sound. Those old, rickety things always make so much noise. He's in a daze, not part of this world anymore. Maybe he never really was in the first place. Just another lie he tried to convince himself with. Jack stalks across the room towards the window, knowing there isn't much time. His body's on auto-drive and the lanky limbs move on their own, forcing him to hammer the last nail into his own coffin.

A deep breath pushes through his ruined lips and he glances towards the floor, letting the dirty blond waves fall in front of his face. He doesn't know if he can do this or what will happen afterward. _No_. It has to, otherwise, he'll keep convincing himself it's a mistake, just some sort of misunderstanding.

Trembling fingers reach up, pulling down one of the dusty blinds that keep the light from shining into the darkened room. He prefers it that way. Shadowy eyes trail down to the street below, where the noise came from. Sure enough, there's a gleaming red Mercedes-Benz convertible parked along the curb, right in front of the building. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. No one who lives in The Narrows would own something a car that expensive _or_ bring it around this part of the neighborhood. That's just _asking_ to be stolen or robbed.

A man hops out from the driver's side, waving his hand out with a big smile on his face. Handsome, nice clothes, must work out a lot, looks like he has a great job, probably even _smells_ like money... Everything Jack _isn't_. He's tall, tan and lean-muscled, but that's about it. No job, barely any money, and now he's alone.

His tongue snakes out, tracing the puffy, raised skin along the corner of his mouth, watching as Jeanie runs out the front of the building. The lump in his throat returns with a vengeance, blocking his airway when he tries to suck in a harsh breath. She throws her bag into the backseat carelessly, not worried about any of its contents. This guy can probably replace anything that might break from the thoughtless act.

Throwing her arms around the dark-haired man, she leans up onto her tippy toes, smothering him in kisses. He tries to pull back, pushing her away and acting like she's being a pain in the ass. Does she know Jack's watching? Probably... That's why he's parked right out front, instead of having the decency to at least do it out of view.

Calloused fingers ghost along his face, remembering what that used to feel like. The way her soft lips would do the same things to him in a different time when he _thought_ they were happy... Before his father carved his mouth open...

When they quickly get into the car and pull away from the curb, his knees start to give out. This…This is too much. Running a hand through his messy hair, he can barely feel the touch. Everything's numb like he's floating through a dream...

_A nightmare._

Flopping down onto the mattress, his head sways back and forth, labored breaths forcing their way out from his chest. The apartment feels emptier than it ever has. He's alone..._again_. After his parents...passing...it was unbearable to stay here by himself. It was only when Jeanie agreed to move in that it became more of a home and less like somewhere just to stay out of the cold.

_'Jeanie...'_

Letting his head fall back, his eyes burned with the tears starting to form... Ones that hadn't been shed in a very long time. Even when he saw his mother lying on the kitchen floor, they refused to show themselves. Now, there's no way of stopping them, even if he tries.

Why does every person that means anything have to leave? Is he _that_ difficult of a man to love? Didn't he try to do his best to make things better? Why is it never enough? His parents couldn't bring themselves to care for him the and the only woman he allowed to get close didn't return the feelings he so desperately tried to convey, in every way he could think of. What's wrong with _him?_ Is it really just because of the scars? Is that all it takes?

Jeanie... It wasn't lost on him that the ring he gave her disappeared a few weeks ago. He didn't say anything because he didn't want to have _another_ fight if it can be avoided. There's enough of that as it is...

Fingers rake down his face and he clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to tear his own skin off. It's not fair... None of this is. He didn't do anything to deserve it, even if he tried convincing himself otherwise all the time.

_'Jeanie...'_

All people care about is money... _Fucking money_. Is this the only thing that's important to anyone? Goddamn cash and what they can do with it? Nothing else matters... Not somewhere that feels like home, not a family or children, not even love. It was all so…_pointless_.

She _lied_. The words and promises meant nothing. Honesty and loyalty are nonexistent. All this time, he put himself through hell and threw everything away to try to please her, and she didn't even _hesitate_ to walk out on him for another man. One that can give her what she really wants, that already has everything at his disposal. From that guy's reaction, he seemed annoyed by her very public display of affection. Jack never acted like that or tried pushing her away. He enjoyed the attention and always wanted more.

Women don't make any sense. They claim to want affection but are always willing to sacrifice it in exchange for luxuries. Is that what they want? Someone to treat them like shit, so when a little ray of humanity shines in, it seems that much sweeter?

Jack's _not_ a nice guy. No one in the neighborhood would have the balls to say that out loud. He consistently walks around with a scowl and is more than standoffish. Throughout the years, he's had more fights than he can count and has a bad reputation, but that's not surprising in this area. The neighbors always look away when he comes out of his apartment and try to avoid him altogether. He doesn't blame them, because he'd do the same damn thing.

It's being _smart_ and having a sense of self-preservation.

There isn't much he detests than other people. If he didn't have to see there faces ever again, that would be _fine_. So, why is it that this woman had to walk into his life and make him want _something_? Everything was shit before that, anyway. His dad was an abusive drunk that sold drugs and his mother a frightened, little mouse. They lived in a dilapidated building and barely had shit. Everything seemed to change when Jeanie came around, even if he begrudgingly let her in. The last year turned into a living nightmare, but he still had her to get through it. At least, that's what he _wanted_ to believe.

She _lied_. It was all lies. Jeanie promised she would stay by his side. Are a few scars all it takes to break that? He thought the brunette was different, not like everyone else. That turned out not to be true... She's just like all the others that look at him like he's just a useless freak. Those blue eyes said more than her words ever could, but he foolishly ignored them, not wanting to trust his own instincts.

Everyone is the same in this city.

Selfish. Greedy. _Heartless_... Only out for themselves. Using others as a means to an end. Living solely for the pleasures they can buy. No heart. No soul. No love.

He's not the problem. It's not his scars that are the issue or having enough money. No...

Jeanie's the one who's wrong…about _everything_. He did try his best and brought in money when he could. Tried giving her the attention and affection she claims wasn't enough and put a roof over her head. Over a year ago, he even dropped out of school at her behest to start working and for them to spend more time together. Now, he's nineteen and has nothing to show for all his efforts. What man his age would throw everything away for one person?

Who takes their money and gambles it away? Who drinks up the earnings? The one that's fucking someone else to get what they want? Who took all the feelings and dedication he has to give and spit on it? Saying it just isn't enough... Not once during their relationship, did he even entertain the idea of seeing another woman. No one else mattered, not to him. Despite that, she didn't hesitate to jump in that man's car... Couldn't even glance back once.

Jeanie's the bad person. The betrayer. A lying, two-timing, money-grubbing _whore_. She's the one who's good for nothing. The one that didn't even _try_ to work and just spreads her legs wherever she can lay her head.

Bolting up, his dark eyes wildly stare around the room, looking, but not seeing anything. Something familiar bubbles in his gut, clawing to make its way out. That old sensation that hasn't reared its ugly head in a while. He always tried to suppress it, to stop it from swallowing him whole. Now, there's no reason to anymore.

The pounding in his chest is deafening, blocking out the blaring sounds of Gotham that lies right outside his windows. He mindlessly looks down at his marred knuckles, watching them ball into large fists. Nothing makes sense anymore… A searing heat spreads throughout his body as the images of her ransacking the apartment replay in his mind, along with everything else she's done in the last few weeks.

_"Fucking whore!"_ Without thinking, his fist smashes through the wall above the bed. It's effortless, unlike everything else in his life. Yanking it out and seeing the blood running down his knuckles, the sight makes his heart skip a beat. There's no pain, nothing to warn him to stop. Grinding his teeth, something deep inside eggs him on, needing _more_.

The drawers are torn out and smashed against the wall, sending clothes flying all over the floor. Ornaments broken into a million pieces. Bottles of perfume are smashed and crushed under his boots. The door to the room they shared is ripped from its hinges. The walls become decorated with holes the size of large fists.

It isn't enough. This blinding rage won't subside, no matter what he ruins. Yelling, cursing, screaming, fingers tearing at his hair, blood pouring from his bruised and swollen knuckles... He needs _more_.

The adrenaline rush is incredible, almost feeling high from it. The tears are long gone like they were never there in the first place, but the anger won't stop.

_Hatred._ That's what this emotion is. He hates her to his very core. That woman ripped whatever semblance of a heart was still left in his chest and crushed it right before his eyes…and it doesn't even faze her. Now, he understands the cold, hard truth about women. _Never again._ He'll never make the same mistake twice. There's no more room for love and patience. Not anymore...

Jack believed all those horrible feelings could be buried with his father... That he could start over and try to have a "normal" life. Maybe he could have something that won't leave him. Perhaps, he really was naïve to have such a foolish fantasy. A small house, to get married, maybe have a few kids... A nice, quiet life that he would cherish and protect... No more dark alleyways or dangerous jobs for shit money, no more fistfights. He thought all that could finally be over when he tried living as an honest man with someone who climbed over that wall he built a long time ago.

Jeanie showed him that kind of life just isn't possible. Not for him. _Never_... It was the stupid delusions of a foolish man, but he's awake now. He'll make everyone regret waking him up from that sweet dream he secretly held onto for so long.

_Freak_. Loser. _Clown_. Good for _nothing_... Every single person will suffer. They want him to be a _freak_? Then, he'll show them a _real_ one.

Looking up towards the ceiling, a grin tugs at the scarred corners of his mouth. Jeanie and his parents always complained about him not smiling, that he rarely ever laughs...

Now, he can't _stop_.

**_"You're always so damn serious..."_**

All the weight of the world melts from his shoulders. Whoever said 'the truth will set you free', is _right_. That's how he feels at this moment, finally accepting the harsh reality of life. He tried to reject it, to push away those urges that are always lurking in the shadows, just _waiting_ for this moment. That one time it becomes too much when he can't stop himself from shattering into pieces and reforming into something different.

It doesn't matter anymore. Who decides what's right and wrong anyway?

"Hah...Ha...Haha... HAHAHAHAHAAA!" Jack can't remember the last time he laughed so loudly and _carefree_. Nothing is holding him back now. Not a single thing to stop him from doing whatever he wants. Nothing to lose, no one _left_ to lose. Everything's already gone. He's free...

"I'm gonna kill that fucking bitch..."

* * *

A groan slips from Joker's ruined mouth, his head lulling against the pillow. It feels like his skull is crafted from heavy metal, making any small movement of his neck too strenuous.

_'Pillow? Guess I'm not on the gurney anymore...'_

Every other time the asylum's put him through "electroconvulsive therapy"- _a nice way of sayin' shock therapy_\- it's never left him in this kind of state. Back in the good ol' days, he was always able to laugh it off. Shit, he used to chuckle and scare the hell out of the nurses _during_ the procedure. Things really are different...

There's something warm on his chest… Maybe, this is another dream? When it moves, Joker's eyes pop open at the feel of it. It can't be those thick straps from earlier. _No_. He wouldn't be able to manage to suck in a deep breath if that was the case.

_"Shh..."_

No, he's definitely awake and everything that happened earlier came crashing back down. The urge to kill after the humiliation he endured is overpowering, making his body tremble in rage.

A large hand lashes out, grabbing the thin neck above him and squeezes hard enough, his nails almost break the soft skin they're digging into. His anger is out of control, after the degrading acts the doctors and nurses put him through. Then, the women he detests the most show up during and after his 'therapy'. Another fucking nightmare from 'those days', just to remind him of the person he used to be. The man he strangled with his own bare hands and will continue to do, no matter how many times that schmuck pops up.

"Take that hand off of my neck, unless you want me to rip it off and shove it up your ass..."

It's not a request. The deadly threat in her voice promises a violent end if he continues. A growl shakes the clown's chest as his muscles flex under the touch. The warmth stops while she waits to see if he'll comply or not.

With a scoff, Joker pulls away each finger one at a time, showing his reluctance to let go. Right now, his body isn't in a physical state to try fighting anyone, let alone successfully killing them. Just another humiliating experience to add to the wonderful day it's already been so far. A grimace spreads across his face as the offending arm falls limply by his side.

_"That's better."_ The warmth starts up again, pressing into his chest and slowly spreading outwards. It feels good..._soothing_, nothing he'd dare admit out loud. As much as it pains him, this woman's sorcery seems like a necessary evil. Otherwise, this bed will most likely be the only place he'll be for the next few days. That just won't do... The guards would be more than happy to make sure of it, after taking advantage of his inability to move—_again._

"They sure did a number on you, huh? Bit off more than you could chew _again_?" No way is he going to reply to that. Why give her the satisfaction? Why is she here anyway? This doesn't make a lick of sense.

Dark eyes narrow while he watches her, but instead of looking at him, she's staring intently at his chest. The pinkette's brows are furrowed in concentration, which is another new expression for him to see. It's not the same one from when she's trying to read, that's different. It's like all her attention is solely on the magic radiating from those dainty, little weapons.

A small hand reaches up to move the long pink locks out of her face and she gingerly tucks them behind her ear. Why is this woman healing him? Where are the guards? At least there doesn't seem to be anyone around to witness this. The entire ordeal is embarrassing enough, without her coming to his aid.

"Why?" The voice doesn't sound familiar when it comes out, gritty and barely audible. His throat feels raw like he spent hours throwing up stomach acid. Just saying a single word is difficult. The warmth increases, trailing from his chest and washing over his aching neck, gently caressing his face. Joker can't stop the groan forcing itself out from the relief her spell brought. Without a second thought, he bites down hard enough to pierce his own lip, a fitting punishment for his body reacting that way without consent.

"Hahaha..." The pinkette chuckles sweetly, flashing those bright green eyes in his direction. Amusement dances in them, zeroing in on the small trickle of blood running down his mouth from the self-inflicted damage. In seconds, the wound on his lip closes up, leaving only the metallic taste behind as proof that it happened in the first place.

God, he _hates_ her...

"What the hell are you doing, witch?" The words come out strong, not as weak as just a few minutes ago. The fact that it's thanks to her efforts, is like a punch in the gut.

"What does it look like, dumbass? I'm healing you. I didn't take you as the kind of man to ask stupid questions." Sakura's voice is playful, even if a bit antagonistic. She seems to be in a good mood, probably relishing the pitiful state he's been in throughout the day.

"No shit. I meant _why_ are you doing it?" She's right, he's not the type of man to ask asinine questions, not unless he's toying with someone. The pinkette knows exactly what he's asking and is purposefully being a pain in the ass.

"Then you should've asked that instead... Like I told you earlier, I'm a medic. Stop calling me a witch, or I'll give you a reason to." Sakura narrows her eyes slightly, before looking back down towards his chest. "Well, I just couldn't help myself, after seeing how pathetic you look. They brought you back hours ago, and you've been out of it most of the day."

_'Pathetic?..'_

The urge to reach up and strangle the little witch is more than tempting, but that'll only end badly...for _him_.

**_There's a time and place for everything, and this _**_**isn't**_**_ it. I'm sure you understand that concept better than most, no?" _**

A growl rips through his throat, only this time it doesn't feel like needles are tearing at his esophagus. Damn her... As much as the images of ripping her to shreds delight him, the thought of being beaten to a bloody pulp doesn't.

"Stop _that_. I'm not the enemy... There's enough of those to go around to last a few lifetimes, right?" The smirk on her face turns his blood run, cold despite the warmth radiating through his body. "As I said, I'm a medic. I don't like the idea of someone being in pain if there's something I can do about it."

Joker scoffs again and looks away, not wanting to see her face anymore. "What does someone like _you_ know about pain? I bet you only know how to deal it out, ya damn brute..."

"Hmm... Hahaha..." The clown snaps his head back in her direction from hearing the soft giggle, suddenly becoming wary of the tiny woman trying to suppress the noise with a tight fist against her lips. The way her knuckles turn white has him wondering if he'll even have to bother with another session with the good doctor. There won't be any need to if he's beaten to death.

Joker slowly cranes his neck back against the pillow, debating whether he might've just said the wrong thing. Subconsciously, his tongue snakes out to run along his bottom lip as he tries to determine if his life's in danger or not.

"_Hah_. You see... I'm more familiar with pain than you can probably ever imagine. Don't take my appearance or ability as a representation of the life I've lived." Sakura leans in closer, using the hand on his chest for leverage. "You should know better than to judge a book by its cover, no? I don't pretend to know exactly what you've been through or smack a label on it, based on your looks... That wouldn't be fair, would it?"

The clown stares her down as she hovers over him with a smug expression painted on that delicate face. Aside from healing him and the humiliation he's endured, it feels even worse by the fact that he doesn't have an intelligent come back to throw in her face. How can he _really_ argue that point? Everyone and their mother have always done that to him, especially after the scars... Not that he let them get away with it…

_'Freak.'_

_'Loser.'_

_'Monster.'_

_'Lunatic.'_

Despite it happening all his life and resenting it, he's constantly doing it to her. He thought she was a weak slip of a woman that he could easily kill. Time and time again, she's proved him wrong.

The front of his jumpsuit's slightly open, probably from the physical they performed when he was unconscious. Dark eyes trail from the pinkette, down to the old scars along his tan skin. A grimace twists his features as something mean bubbles up in his chest.

No...

How can Sakura _possibly_ understand him? Any cut or wound on her body can just disappear if she wills it. The pinkette doesn't have the luxury of understanding pain... Raw, agonizing pain that shakes the core of his very being. The witch doesn't know what it's like to suffer day after day, waiting for his body to heal naturally. Something that would take weeks to mend only takes her mere seconds.

_'She doesn't know shit!'_

Joker is an incarnation of chaos and pain, whether inflicting it or taking it. His body became accustomed to it long ago, probably before this woman was even born. Physical pain is something he _thrives_ on, and any other kind is nonexistent, as far as he's concerned.

"Someone who can heal every little paper cut she gets on those delicate little fingers wouldn't understand pain. Don't make me laugh!"

He does anyway.

Loud, hysteric laughter fills the cell at the ridiculousness of it all. Who does this stupid woman think she's talking to? If he didn't care about who ends his miserable existence, he'd lunge up and sink his teeth into her pretty little neck, right into the jugular. That would stop her incessant, ignorant rambling.

Sakura blankly stares down at him, which only agitates him further. Green eyes slide over towards the bare skin he was scowling at, before returning to his face. Her head cocks to the side as she watches him, not even flinching at the raucous noises coming from the man lying on his back.

That look in her eyes... It's not anger, annoyance, or even pity. No sneer, smile, or impatience. He can't _stand_ that look and wants to smack it right off her pretty face. That expression he can't decipher, the one that feels like she can see right through him and knows everything. Like she has all the world's secrets stored inside and isn't willing to share...

The laughter dies down to a weak chuckle while he waits for some sort of reaction. Either that or for the guards to come in swinging. Where the hell are they anyway? It seems like those buffoons only come around when they're not wanted, never when it's needed.

Does he actually _want_ them to come? To drag her out of his cell and get in trouble, maybe take away that precious keycard that gives her free access to him, whenever she feels like it? The clown's not sure what he really wants. He can always mull it over when he can think straight, not after being fried to a crisp from electrodes on a doctor's orders.

"You know..." The pinkette's voice was soft, a little over a whisper. "Just because I can fix something, doesn't mean I don't have to have to endure the pain beforehand. I haven't always been able to do this…" Joker's brows shoot up at this tidbit of information he almost can't believe Sakura's giving him. She hasn't always been able to heal? Is it something that can be learned? That would come in handy.

A slim hand moves along the scarred skin of his sternum, over towards the side, just above his heart. It's pounding so hard beneath her fingers as he watches her. The clown freezes, not knowing what she's going to do. Pierce it for talking shit? Make it stop with the green glow? Rip it straight out?

"No matter how hard I try, my power can never heal this pain. You know _exactly_ what I mean... I _know_ you do." Something in her eyes when she says it completely sets him off with a blinding rage taking over that stops him from thinking logically.

Grabbing her shoulders in a bruising grip, he lunges forward and pins the pinkette onto her back. Hovering over the small woman, his lips curl over his teeth, letting out a feral growl as his body trembles. The pupils in his eyes dilate, encompassing any brown and white that might've been left. His molars are close to cracking under the pressure of his jaw clenching tighter than he ever has before.

**_"WHAT. THE. FUCK. DO. YOU. THINK. YOU'RE. DOING?!" _**The words are strained and full of unbridled anger, his jaw snapping only inches from her face like he's ready to bite if off.

Joker wants to murder this woman… To wash away her image and everything she's ever said in blood. It would be so much _easier_ than letting this go on any longer. He wishes that she never existed, that he didn't try to toy with her that day. She has to disappear, entirely. From this asylum, Gotham, the whole world… Most importantly, she needs to be erased from his _memory_.

Sakura lays beneath him, completely expressionless as she quietly watches him. The lack of reaction only serves to send him spiraling down the rabbit hole with murderous intent coming off of him in waves. This bitch... Fucking playing with him again... Acting like she knows everything _again_. Screw the beating, he'll just end her before she has the chance...

"Go ahead..." The clown freezes with his face still twisted up in rage. "Do it. I want you to. Go ahead... _Kill me_. That will make you feel better, right?"

_'What?!'_

"You bitch, so you can read minds after all. _Hmm?"_ He knew it. That's how she always seems to know what he's up to and gets in his way. Manipulative little whore, just like the rest of them.

"No, I can't. Wish I could though... I don't need to read your mind to know what you're thinking. Your eyes tell me _everything_. Doesn't take a mind-reader to feel the bloodlust coming from you. I can practically _taste_ it." A small smile graces her pink lips as his chest tightens up in knots. What's with this chick? Does she really think he's that stupid?

**_ "Me? _**_**A **__**liar?...**_**_ That's a bold claim. I haven't lied to you yet." _**

What she said this morning plays through his head and he tries to shake it off. That in itself is a lie. Everyone's a liar, especially pretty women.

"What are you waiting for? _Kill me._ That'll make everything better, right? Then you won't have to second guess yourself anymore. Like everything else in your life... Destroy it, so you don't have to confront it..." Hands wrap around Sakura's neck, pushing her further down into the mattress.

Joker's entire body shakes, his vision turning black as he let himself be overcome with the rage that's driven him all these years. Images he rejects form in the darkness, instead of seeing the pinkette whose oxygen's being cut off.

His father. Mother. Jeanie. That apartment. The blood. The screaming and crying. Bodies of people he cut and tore apart with his own hands. The faces of those who scorned and mocked his very existence... He wants everything dead. To kill and end it all over again.

**_"Hn. Just because I said I didn't mind if you do it, doesn't mean I'm ready yet. There's a time and place for everything, and this _**_**isn't**_**_ it. I'm sure you understand that concept better than most, no?"_**

The sweet voice in his mind forces him let go, jumping back from her as if touching that pale skin alone can melt the flesh right off his bones. Panting hard, the clown shakes his head wildly, desperately trying to get that sound out. His hands dig themselves into the faded waves hanging low around his face, pulling at the roots.

Sakura coughs hard, gasping for breath. A small hand reaches up to gingerly rub along her neck, tracing the large, dark prints the Joker left behind. The familiar green glow radiates from her fingers, fixing whatever damage he caused.

He's not even sure how long he was strangling her for from being completely lost in the void his mind created. Cranking her head from one side to the other, she glances up at him with a smug look on her face.

Without thinking, he raises his hand and smacks the pinkette hard across the face, almost knocking her off the side of his bed. If he wasn't so angry, the clown _might've_ been shocked at his own actions.

"You fucking bitch! What the hell's _wrong_ with you?" Joker doesn't know if he's angrier at what she said and was about to let him do, what he's done, or how he allowed it to even happen in the first place.

Despite the hand cradling her cheek, the expression on Sakura's face hasn't disappeared. It's _unnerving_... What's she so satisfied with? That he let her get under his skin? That she found that goddamn button on him that everyone has, the one that's been cleverly hidden, even from himself?

"You couldn't do it..." His dark eyes widen at her words. What the hell's she spouting on about now? "I just wanted to see if you'd really go through with it. If it went _too_ far, I was going to rip your heart out. Good thing you stopped yourself. I'm so proud of you!"

Joker just sits there, gawking at the woman, like she had two heads. He's barely able to string together a coherent thought, let alone form an intelligent sentence.

_'She... She was just testing me?'_

Despite being hard to read, he _knows_ she isn't lying. If he hadn't controlled himself, he'd be laying in a pool of his own blood with his chest cavity wide-open.

This is infuriating. He's the one that manipulates people and messes with their heads. How can he let this small woman turn the tables on him, time and time again? Let this _snake_ slither her way into his mind and sink those poisonous fangs into his neck?

Green eyes watch the wheels in his head going into hyperdrive through the black pits in his sockets. They appear to enjoy the scene unfolding and having a front-row seat as one of the most infamous criminals in Gotham cracks, breaks apart, and reforms, only to rinse and repeat.

Sakura chuckles softly and the clown glances up, staring her pinks lips. Instead of nails scratching along a chalkboard, it sounds closer to bells ringing, making his head spin. The last 24 hours have been a complete shit show for him, a whirlwind of mind-fucking and humiliation.

Between Sakura's games, abuse from the staff, being electrocuted and beaten, paralyzed and thrown around like a rag-doll, then having unwanted flashbacks in his dreams from a past long-buried... Joker's fed up. For once, he honestly just feels like throwing in the towel.

Slender hands reach out, taking ahold of his face before he can pull away. The threat of having his skull crushed in is enough to get him to stay put, already having an idea of what those "weapons" can do. A breath stills in his chest when her thumbs gently trace along the scars at the corners of his mouth. The pads are so soft against the harsh, cracked skin they trail over, warm and soothing.

Sakura's feeling his face... His damaged mouth that was slit open years ago. The marred skin people look at with disgust or horror. The scars that Jeanie couldn't bear to see, let alone touch.

The urge to snap and bite is just barely suppressed. Being beaten to death by a pink-haired woman wasn't a part of his plan when he formulated it in Blackgate. That would also be a pretty shitty headline in the paper. Not a good way to go out in this city.

It's an odd sensation... To know the hands caressing his face can turn him inside out with a flick of the wrist. That almost...makes it a little more _exciting_. This isn't like having a row with the Bat on a rooftop or in a building under construction. One wrong move and it could all be over. Unlike the lying rat, this person has no qualms with breaking that pesky rule. Nothing is holding her back from ending him, aside from making the choice not to...

It's like…dancing with _Death_.

Despite every instinct in his body screaming bloody murder, he starts leaning into the touch. Closing his eyes, he allows himself to relax, letting the rage pulsing through him slowly ebb away. Joker can't even believe it himself... What the hell is he doing? Letting this woman take something away from him and not trying to kill her for it. Maybe this place is scattering his marbles.

"You know..." The soft voice makes his ears perk up like her touch puts him under a spell. That must be it, otherwise, this wouldn't be happening. "We're a lot alike, whether you want to admit it or not."

"You and I... We've been rejected by the world we thought we knew. Neither of us can find our way back, or know if it was ever there in the first place. Secretly pining for something that's always out of reach. This world is unfair, constantly inflicting pain, and abandoning those who try to be a part of it. It's _selfish_ and _greedy_. Both of us understand this concept, better than we wish to acknowledge."

Joker's brows furrow as he quietly listens to the pinkette, almost in disbelief. It almost feels like...she understands.

"No one wants to listen and attributes it to insanity, forcing labels onto things they are too ignorant to understand. Too blind to look beyond their own desires. Seeing things for what they really are is considered madness in this society because they refuse to try to acknowledge anything beyond their comprehension and reject what they can't control." A groan pushes through his ruined lips as she continues caressing his face, the words coming from her mouth having his full attention.

"We know the reality of this world and are in turn, are rejected by it. Out of all the people I've met since I came here, you're the only one that can honestly understand me and vice versa. No matter how hard it seems to believe, you know that I _do_ get it. That's why you try to push me away because it angers you. I'm not a person you can easily manipulate like Harleen, or read like the guards. You're not used to having someone you can't grasp or threaten into submission, and the thought alone drives you _wild_."

A growl comes straight from his chest at what she's saying. He hates that there isn't anything he can say to refute her claims, but he _loathes_ the fact that her words caught his interest. Perhaps...she's not as foolish as he thought.

"Tell me I'm wrong..." Joker grinds his teeth at the smile on her face. Who the hell is this sorceress? _Really?_ It like she's saying the things he dares to _and_ refuses to utter. What a cunning woman...

"Ya know... Turns out you really are, ah, insane... _I like that_."


	11. Queen of Hearts

"It's difficult trying to get the patients and staff to understand what I'm trying to accomplish here. There doesn't seem to be another soul in this building that has the same goals in mind that I do..." The light brown-haired man nods to himself, scratching quickly against the clipboard in his hand.

"That's just the thing! No one has the discipline to do what needs to be done anymore. They just _don't_ get it. Living their meaningless little lives, consumed with the foolish and frivolous ideas that society has placed on everyone. Money, jewels, vacations... Those things mean nothing if the person trying to reach them has no soul. Then they're nothing more than..._zombies_."

Jeremiah bites the end of his pen as his glasses start to dragging down the bridge of his nose. It's a shame that there isn't anyone on his staff that seems willing to do what's necessary to help the patients that are left in their care.

Day after day, it's just one problem after another. A guard using more force than need. A patient trying to escape on the way to a session, not realizing that going is in their best interest. Someone attempting to stab another person in the community room with a pen that a nurse carelessly left unattended...

The people in this building are sick and need their help. It's not their fault that the disease of madness has spread to them at some point in their life, whether from infancy or during their journey to adulthood. If someone contracts an infection, is it not a doctor's job to give them antibiotics and do everything in their power to ensure that the road back to good health is possible?

When he took up the mantle as head of Arkham Asylum, Jeremiah swore to himself that he would do everything to help these ill patients recover successfully. The goal is to rehabilitate and guide them in the direction that everyone needs to follow in. Back into society with everyone else... Unlike what many of the doctors and law enforcement believe, that _is_ possible.

Some cases are far more difficult than others, but that's to be expected. Just like every other illness, the type and degree in which it inflicts the human body varies. The more extreme a case, the more attention it requires. That's something Jeremiah's determined to do. No one will go unchecked.

Many of the patients don't understand the basic concepts that hold the world together. Rules were made to be followed because a person did something that caused them to be created. Everyone has their place in this world, whether it's a politician or a criminal, but the roles can easily be switched. That's part of the beauty behind how the mind works. It's all a state of consciousness.

A traumatic episode can push even the most civilized of humans to turn into rabid animals. The right combination of therapy and medication can make a serial killer docile enough to sit next to someone on the train and have a normal conversation, without the person realizing who they're talking to. This field is one of miracles and failures, but Jeremiah refuses to accept the latter.

He's an Arkham, yet nothing like his uncle, Amadeus. Perhaps it's luck of the draw or from sheer will power, but he's been grateful the madness that afflicted his relatives hasn't touched him. After all, he wouldn't be able to continue his plans and achieve his most desired goals if that happens.

"You're correct in your assessment... I'll make them see the error in their ways. Everyone needs to follow the program or improvement can't be made. They just don't understand what I'm trying to do, but soon enough, they will see that I've been right all along..." Pushing his glasses up with his middle finger, the light from the ceiling gleams off the smooth surface of his lens.

"That's right! Once they see what you're trying to do, they'll be on their knees _thanking_ you for all your hard work and dedication. You're the only one who has the guts to help everyone the way they need, but not how they deserve. That's for sure!"

A smile spread across the older man's face, jotting down a few notes onto the clipboard now on his lap. That's right... They will see he was right all along when they witness the results of his efforts with their own eyes.

"Not many people are as willing to listen and comprehend such simple concepts. I do say, it's a bit refreshing to have such an open mind that isn't so absorbed in their own desires... I knew from our first session it was a good idea not to leave you in Harleen's hands."

Victor chuckles, shifting against the straps holding him down to the gurney, trying to keep his sunglasses in place by crinkling his nose.

"Of course, Dr. Arkham. She's just doesn't have the experience or knowledge you possess..."

* * *

"Tuesday, December 5th 20XX. Time is 12:00 PM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel beginning session with Patient 0801... The Joker..."

The man sitting across the table keeps rolling his shoulders and curling his upper lip, making little grunting sounds. It seems like he can't stop moving, constantly bouncing his knee under the table. The motions might've annoyed others into complaining, but Harleen's a patient and understanding woman.

The expression on his face is more than enough to tell her that he doesn't seem too thrilled about their appointment. Part of her feels a little disappointed about it but doesn't let it be a deterrent. For the last week, she hasn't had a single session with him, it couldn't be helped. There was a family emergency and Dr. Arkham insisted-_practically demanded_-that she takes some time off to manage her affairs.

"Look what the cat dragged in... Where ya been, Harley?" The blonde's ears perk up at the words. So, he _did_ notice she was gone... Even if it's hard to admit, the thought brings some small relief to her otherwise, heavy heart.

"I apologize, Mr. J, but there were some…_things,_ I needed to take care of." The blonde shuffles through some of his paperwork, looking at the list of medications she's prescribed for him. A very _lengthy_ list. The staff keeps a daily log, detailing each instance they're dispensed. The date, time, which one's are administered and _how_, dosage, and any notes, like if the patient tries refusing them.

That's one of the biggest parts of Harleen's job. She has to determine what kinds of medications her patients need and how much. It's not a perfect science, but she tries her best. These decisions are based on how these sessions go, what other staff members informed about the patient's behavior, previous medical records, and using her own knowledge of what might help. Sometimes the dosage has to be adjusted or she'll try a different one altogether if there are no results.

The Joker is a difficult case. He _never_ wants to take _any_ of the medications she prescribes, which is a common occurrence with his previous doctors, according to his file. The excuse is that he doesn't like them. In Arkham, the staff don't accept that and will use force to administer it, if necessary. It's for an uncomfortable experience all around. She'd rather keep the list as low as possible to make it easier on him, but in the long run, that'll only make matters worse. If there's any hope in rehabilitating him, his mental state needs to be stabilized, which is the cause of most of his issues.

From an in-depth evaluation and her own research, it's abundantly clear that Mr. J has an antisocial and narcissistic personality disorder. He has total disregard for any type of authority, complete lack of empathy or care for other's lives, has no remorse for his actions, is a compulsive liar, believes he's intelligence and ingenuity are far beyond anyone's comprehension… The list can go on and on. He fits every textbook characteristic _to a T._ There is no medication to prescribe for _that_, but there are other ways to help.

There's much more to his mental disorders beyond that. He has severe paranoia and anxiety, though he vehemently denies it. She prescribes medications to help with those and insomnia. That's what caught the blonde's attention when looking over the log sheets for the last week. The clown's been adamantly refusing his sleeping pills, saying they're unnecessary. It wasn't the easiest to lock down on a dosage that appears to help him. The fact the staff allowed the refusal and didn't consult her first is a serious problem. Certain medications can't be dropped like that without serious side-effects. Everyone's going to have an earful when this session's over. The guards claim he was sleeping throughout their night-shifts, but they can be easily fooled.

_'This is why I didn't want to leave… Good grief, everything went to shit, while I was gone.'_

"Like? What's more important than tending to your favorite patient? Ya have any idea what it's been like with ya gone, pumpkin? _Unbearable_..." He smacks his lips, squirming around in the chair. Harleen sighs which causes a toothy grin to spread across his face. Despite being gone for some time, she feels even more exhausted than the day she left. Now, there are more problems to deal with than if she stayed, but Jeremiah wasn't having it for some reason.

_Again, with the games..._

"Please don't give me nicknames, either call me Harleen or Dr. Quinzel. I'm still your psychiatrist, even if you're also seeing Dr. Arkham now." She hates that fact. He might as well come out and say that he doesn't trust the Joker in her hands alone, that she isn't competent enough to handle this on her own.

"Oh, _Harley_... No need to be shy. I thought we were closer than that! I missed my girl while she was away. Did you miss me? _Hmm?"_ The way his dark eyes bore into the blonde makes her heels on the hard floor shift uncomfortably. Why does he constantly have to do this? _That_ look always causes her cheeks to burn, even though it takes every ounce of willpower to try suppressing it.

"I missed doing my job. That's all..." His bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout, with a feigned expression of hurt plastered his face. As if the clown actually feels that way... It's not possible.

_'Maybe, he's being honest...'_

The blonde tries shoving the thought away as soon as it came to the surface. No, that isn't the case, just another manipulation tactic he's playing with.

"Speaking of your job, Doc... Seems ol' Jerry isn't too confident in your, _ahem_, ability to do it." Joker cocks his head to the side, watching her carefully. His tongue slithers out and starts prodding the cracked skin of his left scar.

"What do you mean?" Harleen knows _exactly_ what he meant. That Jeremiah doesn't have confidence in her as a psychiatrist to handle the Joker alone. She just wants to hear his take on it, finding his conclusions to be quite interesting. It also gives her a better idea of his tactics and how he employs them.

"I just don't think it's fair, do you? Out of all the doctors I've met over the years, ya seem to be the most dedicated and, ah, _passion-ate_ about your job. Even Jerry said that I respond the most to you, that's why he's still letting us have our little dates. There's no reason for him to intervene when you've been doing such a good job and making progress. I won't tell him shit, no matter how many times he shocks me!_ Hahaha!"_

Harleen's eyes widen as she sits up in her chair. Did he just say… What is he talking about? "What do you mean, '_no matter how many times he shocks me?"_

"What? They haven't been keeping ya in the loop? The good Doc has been putting me through shock treatment four-five times a week. Can't say it's been helpin' much, though it gives me some creative ideas for when I get out of here..." His voice trails off and he turns his head to the side with a smirk, still keeping an eye on her.

_'He's trying to gauge your reaction...'_

"Well… I'll speak to Dr. Arkham about that. You look in pretty good shape for someone who's been getting "electrocuted" so often..." It must be another lie. He seems in great condition for receiving electroconvulsive therapy four to five times in the last week.

Most people have six to twelve sessions, administered two-three times a week over a certain period. That means Jeremiah has done it five times since he made her take off. That would be borderline torture to have that happen so often in such a short span, considering how some staff like to _do_ the procedure.

The way the clown stiffens in his chair at her inquiry is curious. It must've been a lie from the way he's reacting. She isn't a fool. Dr. Arkham's not the kind of man who does anything unnecessary or would willingly make a patient suffer.

"Anyway, Mr. J... I heard from the guards you've been behaving as of late for the most part. That makes me very happy. I know we're not supposed to do this, but I brought you a little present to keep you busy in your cell. She finds it endearing the way his eyes light up and how he straightens his back, despite the restraints holding him down.

Those dark pits start roaming around, like they're searching for something that isn't usually in the room, trying to spot the surprise. He seems curious, maybe even a bit excited. Unless it's anxiety and paranoia about not knowing what's going on. Either way, this is the first time she's seen this expression on his face.

This is similar to the other week when he pulled the top of his jumpsuit down and spoke in a drowsy tone. It's like a little gift that's only for her to see. Maybe he is more responsive to her than the other doctors, after all... Why is that? Does he feel like he can trust her?

Harleen's lips curl into a smile as she reaches down into the pocket of her white coat, feeling around for the small cardboard item she brought in with her. The blonde's brows raise when her slim fingers wrap around the gift, after fishing around the pens and folded papers. Pulling it out, the doctor holds the pack up, turning it front to back for him to view.

"Ah! How _thoughtful_ of you... My _favorite_." Despite the grin on his face, she's not certain if it's genuine or a cover-up for disappointment. Was he expecting a pistol or something? Maybe a knife?

"You're such a sweet girl, pumpkin. To bring _Daddy_ in a gift to keep him busy..." The doctor sputters at the term he used to refer to himself, completely flabbergasted. If her face wasn't read before, it definitely is _now_. The smug expression on his face tells her that he got the reaction he was looking for, grinning like a damn Cheshire Cat.

She doesn't know what to say or how to arrange her face. Saying that it's the last thing she expected him to say doesn't even cover it, because _that_ wasn't even on the list. It's a disturbing thought, but something about the way he said it strikes a chord, and an uncomforting sensation makes her thighs shift beneath the table.

_'What's wrong with me? Please don't tell me I have _that_ problem. Christ… This is the last thing I need right now. I guess I'm also learning things about myself from these sessions…'_

"Will I be able to keep them?" The clown quirks a brow, motioning towards the gift in her hand with his chin.

_'He wants to know if he can keep them? I guess he actually does like it... He's not disappointed after all.'_

"Of course. I'll give them to John when he takes you back to D-block. Unlike some... _guards_, he's fair and far more reasonable. He'll make sure they're not taken from you. After all, you've been making progress, so there's no reason you should be punished, right?" The way his eyes narrow when he nods, causes her to bite the inside of her lip. There's always something mischievous about him, but that seems to be a part of his personality.

The staff has to keep a close eye on him. It's when he gets someone to let their guard down, that incidents occur. A deck of cards should be fine for him to have. They're too flimsy to even give a paper cut, let alone to pull anything with. She made sure of that before buying them.

Leaning back into the chair, he seems satisfied with the answer. Blue eyes glance him over, noting the change in his appearance compared to their first few sessions. The green dye is barely noticeable unless she looks hard enough. His natural dirty-blond color is really shining through. She can tell it's been washed recently, no longer appearing like a greasy, wild mop. It's closer to a soft, wavy mess, probably done on purpose to not appear too clean or organized.

_'Mr. J always has to look 'out there', unwilling to be like everyone else. I can see him trying to ruin his hair, just to fit his 'persona'. It's a bit unruly, but he actually has some nice curls.'_

There's a note in his file that one of the staff members tried to brush his hair after a shower and he went _berserk_. Thankfully, he was restrained at the time and no one ended up getting hurt. That good behavior streak would've been over. He just doesn't like people getting too close to him, which is understandable. After dealing with other criminals and living in this city, that's how someone needs to be to survive in the underground. At least, that's what other patients have told her when talking about their time in the streets.

There's also more improvement beyond the clown's hair. His skin appears clean and clear, aside from the dark scars and shadows around his eyes. At least the guards seem to be doing their job and making sure his personal hygiene is taken care of. Whether it's willing is another question _entirely_.

_'As long as he's being cared for...'_

Jeremiah made a note in his file for someone to take a look at his teeth, but that's going to be _very_ difficult unless they sedate him. According to the reports, the last time he was in Arkham, they had a dentist come in for an appointment since it was too dangerous to transport him anywhere outside of the building. Nothing had been accomplished, aside from Mr. J getting beaten to a pulp by the guards and the doctor leaving with 8 out of 10 fingers.

_'Maybe we can figure something out, without things becoming physical.'_

"Okay, let's move on... I have something I want to do with you today." Harleen sighs when he pumps his brows and gives her a lecherous grin. For just a second, the blonde almost couldn't restrain the chuckle trying to leave her lips.

_'Don't let him get to you, Harleen…'_

"We're going to be doing a TAT. A Thematic Apperception Test. I'm going to show images and you'll describe what you think is happening in them." Leaning down towards the leg of the chair, she reaches into a bag to pull out the large pictures.

"I know what it is, Doc. I probably have more experience with this shit than most of the doctors here." He looks away with a loud _"tsk",_ seemingly disappointed with the next activity. If he knows what the test is, then he should understand why she has him doing it. The answers he gives will tell her much about the way his mind works.

"Just humor me, Mr. J. After all, there's still 45 minutes left of our session and we want to show Dr. Arkham that you're making progress, right?" It's not that she likes the idea of doing things to get Jeremiah's approval, but if she's going to keep this patient, she needs to have plenty to show him. Aside from him, there's no other doctor in the entire building that wants to even step foot in the same room with the clown. How will rehabilitation be a possibility when it's like that?

The tone of her voice isn't lost on the Joker who seems to understand what she's getting at. He doesn't want to deal with the other staff either, knowing they'll keep him restrained 24/7 if given the chance.

"_Tch_. Fine. Lemme see 'em..."

* * *

"Fucking stupid..." Joker mutters to himself, flipping over a card on top of his blanket that's spread out over the mattress. He curls his lips and pops them, feeling that tingle right beneath the surface of his skin starting to gnaw at him.

These tests and appointments are really starting to grate on his nerves anymore. If it's not the blonde constantly nagging him, it's the good doctor trying to pound conformity into his head. When those two had their fill, then it's the damn electrodes and needles in his neck. This is getting old real quick... He's finding fewer reasons to smile these days. If he didn't come here with a purpose, this place might actually drive him mad.

"HAHAHAHA!" There it is. It just seems funny that a place that's supposed to rehabilitate people with mental disorders is driving them headfirst into insanity. How ironic...

Dark eyes glance up from the cards strewn in front of him, towards the cell across the hall. So far, Sakura hasn't looked over at all today, obviously too enthralled in the new book Harold brought in for her to bother noticing anything else. If he could, he'd tear that thing to shreds and see what kind of expression she'd make. That would be interesting...

Grunting, Joker chews on the familiar corded scar tissue lining the inside of his cheek. That's something he always does when he's bored or agitated, which is often. Shaking his head, he looks back down at the deck on the blanket.

What a fickle woman... One day, she wants to sit at the glass and talk for hours on end, about anything and everything. The next, she has her nose buried in a book and is _too_ busy to pay him any mind.

_'How annoying...'_

What's so interesting that it takes up most of the day? Doesn't she have anything better to do than lay around and kick her feet, like a teenager glossing over a magazine with pictures of boy bands?

_'Stupid girl.'_

Clicking his tongue, Joker tries to focus on the game of solitaire he's playing. No matter what he does, the restless feeling clawing at his gut is becoming increasingly overwhelming. Being cooped up in a cell for weeks is really starting to get to him. He needs to stretch his legs...cause some _trouble_.

_'If that witch didn't take my damn keycard... Gahh! I'll just have to get another one.'_

Then again... If she hadn't, there wouldn't be a way for her to sneak into his cell at night and heal him, after the shock treatments they're generously passing around like the goddamn flue. He loathes admitting it—_which will never happen vocally_—but it's more helpful than he initially realized. If she didn't come, he'd be stuck in bed for some time. The guards would take advantage of his shitty condition to give him a late-night date with their nightsticks.

Running a hand over his face and into his wavy hair, a grimace screws up his expression. This woman's getting under his skin... It's not that he necessarily hates the conversations they've been having, but the fact that he _doesn't_ is the real problem.

Unlike the first week he was here, things have changed in a _strange_ way. They both keep finding themselves sitting at the glass doors, talking about random topics. Gotham, Batman, politics, current news, how unfair their society is. From the way she speaks, it's clear that she wasn't born in the city.

_'Lucky her...'_

The pinkette doesn't talk about where she's from or what life was like, before being locked up in the asylum. He sends out a line, but she refuses to take the bait. It's annoying and tantalizing at the same time because he can't stand not having information that someone else has.

"What are you doing?" His eye twitches at the soft voice coming from across the hall. He cracks his neck to let some of the tension out that's been building up. That's another constant battle he'll never win.

_'Now she wants to act like I exist...'_

"What's it look like?" Sakura's not the type to ask a stupid question, making him arch a brow in her direction. She closes the book that seemed so damn important all day and tosses it towards the foot of the bed.

"If I knew, why the hell would I ask?" Swinging her legs over the edge, the pinkette pushes herself off of the mattress. Padding across the hard floor, she squints with a curious expression.

"Solitaire." Holding up a card between his calloused fingers, he twists it back and forth to make it more obvious. The way her face lights up makes his stomach twist in knots. It's confusing and frustrating at the same time, and he debates punching his abdomen to get it to stop.

"What's that?" He can't stop his jaw from dropping at the question. Is she serious? _No_... This has to be another trick.

"Stop screwin' around." Even though he's beginning to just barely get some sort of a grasp on the kind of a person he thinks she might be, it's still difficult to tell when she's lying or not. That in itself is quite a feat. Most can't get away with lying or deceiving him at all, because he's good at reading them. Quite a few have ended up at the tip of his knife for trying and miserably failing.

"I'm not. What are those? They look interesting..." The corner of his mouth twitches in agitation at the genuine look of curiosity on her pretty face. She's not lying, something in his gut is telling him so. Rolling his shoulders, he glances down at the cards on the bed.

This is unbelievable... Who the hell doesn't know what these cards are? What rock has this woman been living under? For some reason, he finds it even more intriguing... This isn't a side of her that he's seen before. It's gratifying to think there's something the witch doesn't know, that he has plenty of knowledge about. After all, card games have always been a favorite pastime of his... One of the very few that don't involve some sort of violence. Even then, a game of poker can turn into a bloodbath real fast with the people he's played with...

_'Hahaha...'_

"Can... you show me?" Joker's eyes widen at the request. He cranes his neck back in surprise as the wheels start turning. This is too good... The _"Queen"_ is asking him to show her his deck and how to play?

The clown's tongue snakes out to trace the scarred corner of his mouth. This is _perfect_. For once, he'll be in control of the situation and anything she learns about the game will be what he tells her. It makes him feel powerful in a sense.

This brute of a woman who's used to having the ball in her corner is reaching out to _him_ for something. She can turn him into a human-pretzel in seconds and now wants a little lesson from him, the _Joker_. He grins wide, enjoying the uncharacteristically shy expression on her face as she chews on her thumbnail. For some ungodly reason, the word _'cute'_ pops into his head and he wants to drive a railroad spike through his skull, after tossing her ass from a ten-story window.

_'A woman of a thousand faces...'_

Honestly, it doesn't matter if she is screwing with him or not. This is a good opportunity for a multitude of reasons and he's not going to pass it up...

"Tch! Fine. _Fine_. Sit by the glass and I'll show ya." The way the pinkette grins and quickly plops down on the floor leaves his chest feeling tight. She seems almost excited to do this…with _him_.

Joker bites down hard on the inside of his lip. When's the last time he played a card game with anyone? Let alone without ending up in a fist fighting or someone getting stabbed? That's definitely not happening here, not that he's opposed to the idea.

Scooping the cards off the blanket and getting off the bed, he eyes her warily, taking his sweet time crossing the cell. The fact that he's not dreading this is making the clown really worry about himself, something that almost never happens. At least this will be a good way to pass the time... It's not like there's much to do right now anyway.

Sitting down in front of the glass, Joker wonders why he's even doing this... After all, this woman is still on his to-do list. It doesn't matter if she has an idea of how the world works. She insulted and humiliated him on multiple occasions, even having the balls to touch his scars. He swore anyone who tried that shit would die a terrible death. If Sakura became an exception, he wouldn't be a man of his word... _Right?_

_'There's a time and place for everything...'_

"Hah... _Okay_... First, I need to explain the cards themselves, otherwise, everything else is, ah_, pointless_..."

* * *

Dark eyes stare intently through the glass, waiting for the person on the other side to turn over their next card. Silently, the pinkette holds up the 10 of diamonds for him to see.

_"Tch."_ His hand has the 8 of clubs. "Dammit..."

"Hahaha..." Sakura seems pleased with herself, grinning ear to ear. They're only playing War, nothing special... It's not like they have money or chips to play with. Anywhere besides Arkham, he'd throw out the big bills and howl at her reaction. That'd be pretty funny to see. If they weren't stuck in these cells with the hallway between them, they could've had a _real_ game.

Poker, Crazy Eights, Rummy...something he likes to play that would take a little more concentration. This is an easy game to start her off on, especially without knowing anything about it.

So far, he just showed her the cards and the difference between them. When he suggested War, her face paled a shade lighter than it already was, something he didn't think was even possible. He didn't miss the way her face changed at the word, something he'll store in his memory for later on... Her complexion returned to its usual state as soon as he started explaining the simple rules of the game.

War is the first card game he ever played. One of his dad's bar buddies taught it to him when he was wasted in the apartment, acting as his "babysitter", while his parents were out for God knows how long. It's easy...simple, something a child can easily grasp. It's not that Sakura wouldn't understand how the other games work, she's smart and quick on the uptake. This is just a good place to _start_.

"Here, John..." Reluctantly, Joker hands the card through the hole in the glass, grunting when the blond-haired guard takes it to hand over to Sakura. The last three turns, she's had the higher number and is scooping up his pile of cards. If his luck doesn't change, she's going to end up with all of them and he'll lose_. Screw that._ The clown refuses to let a beginner shame him this early in their little game.

_'If she does end up winning, I'll just show her another game that I'm better at...'_

Even though they're playing something _so_ simple, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself. It's mind-boggling... This is just a children's card game. What's she so damn happy about?

It's weird seeing the different kinds of moods she slowly showing over time. Expressionless, annoyed, entertained, curious, smug, excited... Even since the night she healed him after his shock therapy, she's been more relaxed, a little less antagonistic. It feels like there's a different level of understanding between them, at least on her end. He still plans on killing her and she'll definitely beat the shit out of him for trying.

At least for now, there isn't anything wrong with having a temporary truce... _Right?_

As much as he hates to admit it, she's been doing him a solid by healing him and keeping the guards from breaking his bones. If he's going to make his next move, it can't be lying in bed, waiting for his body to start working again.

"I'm ready..." Green eyes look at him expectantly, energized, and pumped from the recent string of wins. The pinkette rocks back on the floor, sitting cross-legged with a cocky little smirk on her face. The clown's almost in the same position, only his shoulders are slumped and his chin propped against a clenched fist. One's completely relaxed, while the other's on edge.

_Two ends of the same spectrum…_

Sucking in his bottom lip, Joker grabs the corner of the card and flips it up. Hopefully, this one will bring him some luck and turn the tables on the pink-haired witch. The muscle in his cheeks jumps at what he has. There are only two other kinds of cards that can beat this.

"Read 'em and weep, dollface." Holding up the Queen of Hearts for her to see, Sakura's eyes narrow when she glances down at the one in her hand. "Whatcha got?"

Without hesitating, the pinkette raises the card up between her fingers. Jack of Spades.

"HAHAHAHA! Hand it over, sweetheart!" Lady Luck has finally got off her fat ass and made her way over to his side of the hall.

"Here you go..." Sakura gently pushes the card through the hole, not appearing to be upset at the loss in the slightest. He was hoping for a pout or little tantrum, but she's too goddamn happy about playing in general to do any of that. The guard quietly takes it to hand over. At least John's a good sport about it. The other guards would've either taken the deck or tore it to pieces.

One good thing about this is that Sakura wasn't a sore loser during any of their hands. Some people lose their shit playing card games... He's seen it more times than he can count. Honestly, he can be one too but is better at concealing it, unlike others. Instead of flipping the table or smacking the cards away, he prefers a quick stab to the neck. The game's always over after that, and there's no one to testify that he lost.

"I still have plenty of your cards left." The smug look and chuckle make his jaw shift uncomfortably. That little veins over his temple pulses, but he opts to crack his knuckles over letting his agitation play out on his face. Nope, he isn't going to let her get to him. Not now.

"I like the one you had." Arching a brow, Joker holds the Queen of Hearts back up. Seeing her nod with a smile, he scoffs loudly, tossing the card and Jack of Spades next to his foot on the floor.

"Of course, you would..." Rolling his eyes, the clown resists the urge to slap a palm against his forehead. She's something else, that's for certain.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sakura cocks her head to the side, letting that long, pink hair fall down the front of her orange jumpsuit. If he was a different man, he _might've_ found the sight endearing.

_'Good God, woman...'_

"Nothing..." He's not going to explain the meaning behind that card. _Nope_. She can find out herself because this side of the hall's not going down that road.

"What the _hell_ is this?!" Harold comes storming down the hall, looking around incredulously. "John, what are you doing?!"

The blond-haired guard stares at him like he has two heads. It's the most obvious thing in the world, but they all know what he actually means. "They're playing a card game. What does it look like?"

Shaking his head, Harold almost seems like he doesn't know what to do at the moment. He settles for glaring at the clown that's sitting on the floor, sifting through the cards by his feet.

Smacking his lips, Joker can tell his little game time with Sakura will be cut short from this bastard always freaking out over nothing. No one knows how to suck the fun out of everything the way this guy does.

"No shit! I meant _why_ are you allowing this to happen? I can't believe it. You of all people... Aren't you always the one trying to keep everyone in-line and follow the rules?" The buffoon is seething on the surface, unable to hide his true feeling with any form of professionalism. Not like that's a surprise, he's always _very_ vocal about loathing the Joker. He's nothing like Jeremiah, who's a professional at covering up his distaste and sadistic ways. The good doctor is similar to a snake hiding in the bushes, while Harold's a damn bull in a China closet.

"They're not doing anything wrong. The deck was given to the patient as a reward for good behavior and it's not considered a safety risk. You know, the same way _you_ give gifts? There aren't any rules against having a card game. If anything, it will help stimulate the mind and keep them busy. _Or_ would you rather them sit here and plot how to escape with nothing else to do, but glare at the wall?" John stares Harold down, almost daring him to argue. If anyone knows the rules of the asylum, it's him.

While the patients aren't supposed to converse between cells, there technically isn't a rule against playing a card game with a guard as a go-between. Guess that situation hasn't occurred for them to add it to the manual. Another guard walks the length of this part of D-block, making sure nothing's out of order, so what's the problem?

Seeing there's point talking to John, Harold whirls around towards Sakura. The pinkette's looking down at the cards in her pile, not paying them any mind. She couldn't care less about the inconvenience or them arguing, waiting for the dark-hair man to leave so they can continue.

"Didn't I just bring you a new book? Why are you talking to _this-_... Why are you playing a game with _him_?" Joker wants to choke him out, knowing exactly what was about to be said. _Freak_. That's the word ready to spill from his lips, it does all the time. Boy, he's sure gonna pay for that one of these days. So far, the clown has counted 128 times it's been uttered since being dragged through those doors by the staff. He never forgets or forgives.

"What's wrong? Ya wanna turn _Harry_?" The moron doesn't even spare a glance in his direction. It's like he might as well not even been here.

_"Why not?"_ Joker scoots over to look behind John at the pinkette. She sounds indignant, almost offended that he would even ask something like that. It makes the clown feel a little smug and he's not sure exactly why. Both him and Sakura know how that sentence that trailed off was going to end.

_Why are you talking to this scarred-up freak? This maniac? Don't you realize what he is? Who he is? What's wrong with you? Why are you wasting your time like this? Don't you have anything better to do, than deal with this scumbag?_

"Forget it. I came to take you to the shower room. Same time, every day. Let's go..." Motioning for the pinkette to stand up with a roll of his hand, trying to get her to hurry up and abandon this foolishness. Apparently, he thinks the _Queen_ is far too precious to waste her attention on a useless clown, like the Joker. Is he worried some of the jester's bad habits will rub off on Her Majesty?

Her face twists in annoyance, looking from him, down towards the cards on the floor. "We're in the middle of a game. I don't want to lose."

"Screw the game. It's either _now_, or you'll have to wait till tomorrow." Joker's surprised to hear Harold talking back to Sakura the way he is. Usually, he bends to her will without a second thought. Did seeing her playing a game with him rile the guard up _this_ much, that he's willing to ruin any chance of trying to get some tail?

"Jesus Christ!" Rolling her head around, the pinkette angrily scoops up the cards and bolts up. If looks can kill, Harold would be a dead man. Does he know that she could crush him with the tip of her pinky? Probably not...

"Here." Shoving a thin arm through the hole in the glass, she motioned towards John to take the cards. A heavy sigh pours her lips as the guard retrieves them. The fair-haired man throws Harold a hard look, before turning around and stepping across the hall.

_'Son of a bitch! Why is she even listening to him?... Who the hell needs a shower every single day? Hmm?'_

There's no doubt in his mind that Harold will have a very slow, _agonizing_ end. All the guard does is try to make life harder for any of the patients he oversees. The offenses he's committed against the Joker alone, are more than enough to sign his own death warrant.

For some reason, this incident makes him more enraged than it should've. Watching the grumbling pinkette stand away as the guard opens the cell to extract her, his lips curl up into an angry snarl. It pisses him off that their game was interrupted. And for what? All because he's acting like a jealous little shit? Can't stand the fact that her attention is on a different man?

Joker should be relieved that the guard is dragging her away. All she does is try to get on his nerves and play mind-games, giving him whiplash with her words and actions. Just a pain in the ass...

He's should be elated, right? So…why isn't he?

It takes a few moments to realize John's holding Sakura's cards out towards him through the glass. Unlike most of the guards he wants to kill, at least this one can read the atmosphere and doesn't say anything.

Snatching the cards from his hand, the clown fumes and it's completely ridiculous. He starts pacing around the cell, clutching them tightly in his palm. Grinding his teeth, he just feels agitated. Harold's becoming _too_ much of a nuisance anymore.

The only reason he's always the one to escort Sakura to the shower room is so he can get an eyeful when the jumpsuit comes off. What a pathetic man... Taking advantage of his position just for something like _that_. There are plenty of women on the streets the guard can do _whatever_ he wants with-_for free or cheap_. Does watching the pinkette really do it for him?

_'Hah! How sad!'_

Originally, Joker thought Sakura must've been giving it up to the guards. How else could she have them tightly wrapped around those slender little fingers to get whatever she wants? Now, he highly doubts that, based on what he's seen and heard. She doesn't seem the type to spread them so carelessly for just any moron. There's no need to do that, not when she can manipulate them with a smile and few soft words. Then again..._who knows_.

_'Witch... Her and those damn spells...'_

_"Gahh!"_ Leaning down after noticing John already walked off, he quickly picks the remaining cards up off the floor of the cell. If the guard said anything, the clown didn't notice or care, too lost in his agitation. He must've been in this place too long already if such small things are getting under his skin. This isn't fun or entertaining anymore.

Looking at the cards in his hand, he shuffles his feet towards the bed, scowling the entire way. There isn't much to do now, but sit around and wait. At least playing games with that sorceress would've eaten up some time.

It's not that he was having a bad time doing it and that train of thought makes him want to bite his own bottom lip off. He actually was enjoying it, something that's causing him to question his sanity, a thing he's been doing far too often recently

There wasn't any fighting involved, no buildings being destroyed, Batman hadn't come and there was no hope of that happening for the time being... No knife play or blood. Fists weren't being thrown or blades pressed to each other's throats or against their backs... _What makes this entertaining?_ At least with poker, the stakes can be high, depending on the bet. There's nothing to gain from their little game, aside from getting a little more time to try figuring that cunning woman out. Another necessary evil, if he was going to get the upper hand.

_'Yes.'_

The longer they talk or interact, the more she reveals. He just needs to find what makes her tick, where that button is, like the one she found on him. Everyone has it, hers is just harder to find, without hitting his own. Using Suzy con won't be much use, because she has that sloppy slut's name to throw back at him if she gets angry. The whole asylum would erupt into a riot from them trying to kill each other over that.

_'Might be fun, but I'd end being too pissed to think clearly and she'll take my head off… This requires a little more finesse and tact.'_

Flopping down onto the mattress, Joker unzips the top of his jumpsuit and shrugs it from his shoulders. The fabric's obnoxiously itchy most of the time, it'd drive anyone mad from tearing at their skin, like having scabies. If he could, the clown would rather sleep in the buff or sweatpants, but that's not gonna happen. With the guards and Sakura coming and going as they please, he doesn't want to give them any twisted ideas on what to do to him next. That'll just be giving them more ammo in their consistent pursuit of trying to make life a living hell.

Those schmucks don't know hell, but will very soon. They can count on it. Take that shit to the bank.

Popping his lips, Joker swings his legs over the edge of the bed and lays back on the blanket. Looking at the cards in his hand, a sly grin spreads across his ruined mouth. If the blondie's willing to start bringing him in presents, perhaps behaving for a little longer won't be so bad. It'll get him more leeway and lull her into a false sense of security, before going in for the kill.

Yes, Joker can be a patient man when it comes to anything he wants and he always gets his way, sooner or later. Sometimes, it's important to keep the big picture in mind and roll with the punches. Even though he's allowed this farce to go on longer than planned, what will a little longer hurt? Seeing a person's face contort in anguish when they realize they never possessed any control or power the entire time is a _delicious_ sight. The longer someone believes they have it, the worse it hurts to find out it never existed in the first place.

"HAHAWHOOHAHA!" The clown's chest shakes with hysterics, imagining everyone's horror-stricken expressions. Rubbing a few of the cards between his fingers, he lets them drop to his side onto the blanket. He misses the way they feel in his gloved hands... That's one of the first things he'll do, after breaking out. Reclaiming his precious purple leather gloves, not that he doesn't have multiple pairs outside of the asylum. He wants the ones they took from him back, just like everything else they stole. It's a matter of principle. No one takes anything from the Joker, not unless they're prepared for a terrible fate.

Smacking his lips, he holds the last two cards up and stares at them. The Jack of Spades and Queen of Hearts. How ironically funny is it that those two were their last hand?

"Shit..." Dark eyes gaze at the images and a scoff pushes itself out. Figures that woman would like this one out of all of them. A _"Queen"_ knows a _"Queen"_ when she sees one.

How annoying...

Gripping the cards between his fingers, he drops his hand rest against his chest, relaxing into the hard mattress. Now, all there is to do is wait. Closing his eyes, Joker shifts his jaw and allows his mind to wander over how hilariously unpredictable life can be.


	12. Beautiful

"Mmm..."

Joker's face screws up at the soft noises stirring him from his sleep. He groans in annoyance, rolling his head against the pillow, almost unwilling to open his eyes. Who the hell's bothering him now? Can't a man have time to himself for once?

When small hands press down against his chest, the clown's eyes fly open in surprise.

"What-"

_"Shh..."_ The pinkette raises a finger to his lips, stopping anything about to come out. His brows raise in confusion, not understanding what _she's_ doing here. It's most likely still daytime and he doesn't need to be healed. The pinkette's being pretty ballsy coming over to his side of the hall like this.

Looking up at her curiously, he cranes his neck to check if any guards happen to be walking by. It wouldn't matter anyway; he doesn't give two shits about what they think or can do. If anything, the confusion might give him a chance to break one of their necks when they run in.

_'Especially Harold...'_

"Just _relax_..." Her tone is dulcet, but there's a demand laced in sweet music. She isn't suggesting but telling him to do it. Running his tongue over the forked scar of his bottom lip, he finds himself settling into the mattress, almost against his will. It's like her words cast a spell over him, forcing him to do as she commands.

"That's right." A smile spreads across the pinkette's pretty face and those bright green eyes stare at him in a way that leaves his stomach in knots. Her pink lips twist into a sneer when he does as he's told. "You know better than to disobey me..."

Dainty hands run along his chest, emitting a green glow as she speaks. Dark pits widen at the sight, trying to bolt up from the bed. _Nothing_. His body won't move, refusing to listen to his commands. Panic starts setting in, an emotion he's rarely felt in years, one the clown abhors and spits on. He's completely in disbelief that she would do this again. The moment he starts to foolishly allow himself to relax around this witch…

_'No... She didn't...'_

Why is Sakura doing this to him? It's not like he tried to kill her or anything today... He didn't even make fun of her or call out any names either. Weren't they getting sort of getting along in some twisted way? At least for the time being?

"Get _off_ me." Joker's surprised to find that his mouth still works. Last time he was paralyzed, nothing did at all.

A hand crashes into the side of his face, like a baseball bat, causing the room to spin out of control. Before he can even look back, another one comes that's hard enough to rattle his teeth. Pain shots through his jaw and head, erupting in the center of the clown's skull and everything turns black for a split-second. Fireworks go off behind his eyes as they roll around in their sockets, becoming disoriented and losing focus.

"Don't tell _me_ what to do. I'll do whatever I want..." Sakura leans back as she mocks him. Noticing him trying to get his bearings, she chuckles darkly and watches his futile attempts in amusement.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He should've known better... This woman's a monster, just like the rest of the inmates. Why he let such a delicate appearance deceive him is beyond ridiculous_. "You..."_

A sneer turns into a wolfish grin as she presses her hands back down against his chest. Did she finally decide to kill him? After all the bullshit she spouts about them being similar... It was all just a ruse to lull him into a false sense of security. Perhaps they're more alike than he wants to admit.

Dark eyes fly open when her nails dig into the marred flesh of his pecs, raking themselves down and breaking through the layers of skin. They're like knives carving into him, warm blood pooling around his sternum and running down his sides. His mouth hangs open in surprise but refuses to give her the satisfaction of letting out a scream. That's what she wants, he can _feel_ it...

A hiss leaves his lips, the pain blossoming into something else. The pinkette doesn't know how often he's used to having his flesh torn apart. Didn't she see the scars? He knows she did, so what makes her think _this_ would bother him?

Knives are his favorite toy, whether it's using it on someone else or being used on himself. He pants hard and a grin tugs at the scarred corners of his mouth. She'll have to do better than this if she wants to draw out a real reaction.

Joker swallowed hard when the pinkette leans down, running her warm tongue over the wounds she just made. With a sultry groan, she peeks up at him from beneath those long lashes and a breath catches in his throat. Without hesitating, she laps at the blood running down his chest, taking some of him inside of her. He doesn't know what to say. Nothing comes from his parted lips, except for the heaving from trying to force oxygen into his lungs.

He can't believe this is happening... This has to be a strange dream.

Sakura sits up, licking her lips with a satisfied look on her face. It's like she's relishing the taste of him, her eyes fluttering as the crimson fluid trails down her throat. His chest tightens from watching the demoness straddling him and a searing heat swirls in the pit of his stomach.

It's not like anything the clown's ever seen before, not sure an image can be real. The muscle in his cheek jumps and he almost can't believe his own eyes, no longer trusting them. The woman's pink hair falls from her shoulders, ghosting over the front of her orange jumpsuit. Something unfamiliar and tantalizing dances in those deep emeralds and she smiles in a way that hits the center of his being. He watches in fascination as his own blood trails from her pink lips, dripping down her chin…

_'Fuck!'_

She looks... _beautiful_...

"Like what you see?" The sweet tone is gone, replaced with something far more menacing. A breath catches in his throat, stopping any retort that could've come out.

_What is this?_

Joker finds himself completely entranced. It's unforgivable, filling him with a black rage that wants to _burn_ the entire world. He's never wanted to kill her more than in this single moment. To erase her entirely and force this woman and her image out from his mind forever. There's nothing he can do but live in this torment as she drives herself into his being, trying to become apart of him.

Small fingers fiddle with the zipper on the orange jumpsuit, slowly pulling it down. Creamy white skin comes from behind the thick fabric as she gently tugs it over her shoulders. The clown almost swallows his tongue from the sight, his mind going numb and losing any train of thought.

The hammering in his chest reaches a thunderous rhythm, pounding hard against his ears from watching Sakura slowly revealing herself in front of him. No one's around to interrupt her act and to his loathsome surprise, he doesn't want them to.

The pain in his chest only fuels the adrenaline rush coursing through his veins, causing beads of sweat to form along his brow. Heat licks beneath the surface of his skin and he tries to swallow it down, but it's useless. Is this a dream or a nightmare? Right now, he's entirely at the mercy of this woman that can do _whatever_ she wants to him.

The top of the jumpsuit pools around the pinkette's hips, leaving her upper body completely bare. Joker eyes her greedily, taking in the soft curves of her chest and waist, studying all the dips and edges. She's crafted from the finest porcelain, impossibly smooth without a single imperfection. The complete opposite of his own ruined body. He tries to bite down the urge to touch it, to experience what it feels like beneath his calloused fingers. Despite the cold temperature the asylum always maintains, he's on fire, his skin burning under her gaze and the sensations she's forcing into him.

_'Fuck. Fucking fuck!'_

A shuddered breath jerks his chest and he tries to move, needing to do _something_. Part of him has the urge to throw her off the bed, to make her sorry for ever putting him in this spot. The other wants to latch onto the pinkette's hips and show her just what she's starting.

"You see, the two of us are a lot alike, even if we're very different..." That smug look returns as she lifted her arms, stretching them high above her head and arching her back. His eyes stare wildly, taking in everything that can't be touched with his own hands.

Sakura's skin was almost luminescent in the dim lighting, so delicate and pale. He can almost _feel_ how soft it is beneath his fingers just from looking at it. How easy her flesh would be to break under the pressure of his jaw from digging his teeth in. What a sweet taste it would have… A bead of his blood from her chin drops onto her chest, running down the valley of her breasts. They're more than enough to perfectly fill his hands, just like Joker knew they would... Watching the crimson liquid trickle down her sternum and knowing it belonged to _him_ is enough to send him into a rabid frenzy.

"I have the power to take _what_ I want _when_ I want it... Right now, I can do what-ever I want to you and you can't lift even a finger to stop me..." Slowly, her arms drop to her sides and she giggles, not bothering to try hiding her satisfaction. The expression on her face sends his blood boiling and racing, coiling up inside him and ready to lash out.

"The great_ 'Clown Prince of Crime' _is completely powerless beneath me. How does that make you feel? A man who's used to getting what he wants? That manipulates and plays people, like pawns? Murders and destroys everything in his way? And yet... There's nothing-_nothing_ you can do against me?" Joker stills at her words, drinking them in.

There isn't anything he can do right now.

Sakura's physically stronger than him with monstrous strength. There's no denying that, it's just a fact of life. He can't trick or screw with her the way he easily does with others. Too smart to fall in the pit holes he digs, whereas others drop into them, without realizing what even happened. There no way of gaining control of this situation and it's sending him _reeling_. His mind and voice aren't working like they normally would. Usually, if all else fails, he can at least say something to take a person off guard to create an opening. Nothing's happening that he wants to.

For some unbelievable reason, knowing he has absolutely no control over the situation makes him feel a way he's never felt before.

_It's disgusting... repulsive... exciting... enthralling..._

Joker spends copious amounts of time showing others how pathetic their schemes and bid for power is, that their feeble attempts at controlling everything are only an illusion. How _useless_ it all is... Perhaps somewhere along the way, he believed that his intellect and prowess surpassed them and gave him the right to hold everything in the palm of his gloved hands. At every turn, it's always _him_ being ten steps ahead of the others. Playing these fools like puppets, with the strings he attaches wound tightly around their necks, waiting to hang them at the right moment.

This woman came in with a switchblade, happily cutting all those strings... Tying them around Joker's neck, and yanking his head backward to look up at her smug, pretty face. There's no telling when or if she'll tighten the grip and cut off his air supply, leaving him at her mercy, while she howls hysterically at his powerlessness.

"Despite everything you say and do, I know you _enjoy_ it. I can _feel_ it... There's a part of you craves it. Always so used to having control all the time, knowing and predicting people's moves and actions. What an odd way to behave for an _"Agent of Chaos"_. Hahaha!" Full pink lips pull back over her white teeth as a laugh bounces off the walls that send shivers down his spine. The woman is an angel and demoness all in one... So much good and malice wrapped into one tempting, little body with incredible strength and ability.

Sakura seems almost… _ethereal_, not of this world. Can't be... Women like this don't exist on this plane.

Rolling her head back, the pinkette pushes her hands down against his soaked muscles, and his chest stutters beneath her touch, unable to make his lungs work anymore. He can't look away, even if it was possible. Using his torn flesh for leverage, she leans up to rock her hips against his, sending an electrifying jolt through his useless body.

This _has_ to be some sort of screwed-up dream, yet he can _feel_ all of this. Sweat drips down his face and neck, every muscle in his body is tense and straining. The vein in his temple throbs in anger and he doesn't know if it's directed more at the woman teasing him or at himself, for being unable to control his body's reaction to her.

A shuddered breath finally makes its way out in the form of a gasp ripping through his throat. Joker closes his eyes, trying to wake himself up from this wonderful nightmare. This isn't what he wants... So, why does it feel so good?

_"Look at me."_ The blood from his wounds covers her hands as they side over his chest, letting it stain and coat her pale skin. Regardless of his best efforts not to look, nothing will listen. The sound of material being torn temps him to peek up, small tremors racking his body when he notices what she's doing... Using those damn weapons to rip apart the fabric that's still covering her.

A malicious smile graces her delicate features when she leans back against his thighs, slowly pulling his jumpsuit down just enough to free him. The clown grimaces, trying desperately to force his limbs to move, to no avail. He doesn't want _this_. Who would've thought this witch can be so wicked, despite possessing such an angelic face?

"What's wrong? Aren't you the one who wanted this?" The words are condescending, making a growl reverberate through his chest. When the hell did he ever make it apparent that this is something he'd want? It's not Sakura's body that he desires, but her life itself. He wants it in his hands, to tear it away from her and consume it entirely. She can stay in limbo with him, barred from heaven, and cast away by hell.

"You don't know shit." Joker's voice is deep and angry, dropping down a few octaves in his rage. He's barely able to muster more than that, too jumbled up inside to manage anything coherent.

"We'll see... A man who can't even realize what he _wants_ is useless." A wicked grin pulls at her lips and she leans forward, rocking her hips against him.

Anything he tries to say is caught in his throat as he gasps, his dark eyes looking around wildly. Blood vessels are on the edge of bursting and his scarred lips part a harsh breath forcing past them at the feel of her against him.

Hot... so incredibly hot and _wet_.

This isn't real, completely unbelievable, and driving him into a murderous frenzy, wanting to tear her throat out with his teeth for doing this to him. Why won't his body listen to his mind? His heart keeps pound faster beneath her slim hand, causing the blood to pour out faster.

He wants to close his eyes, to not watch her enjoying his torment while she groans, bucking her hips as she runs her heat along his length. It feels better than it should, filling him with contempt all directed towards himself. The clown bites down into his lip and blood trickles down his chin in a feeble attempt to gather his bearings. Despite the paralysis, his hips started moving against her, trying to seek out relief.

"Look at you! Hahaha! Hate me _so_ much, but this is all it takes to turn you into a throbbing mess!" A low, drawn-out moan filters into the cold air as her hands leave his chest, running along her own and trailing his blood over her perky tits, tainting the flawless, pale skin.

Joker's losing his goddamn mind and doesn't know how much more he can take. This is far worse than anything the asylum could ever do or has done, but he can't stop himself. Growling out in anger, he wants _more_. A hunger he didn't realize was ever there is clawing at his insides, trying to scrape its way out.

_"Joker..."_ He freezes when she moans out his name. The sound makes his heart pound erratically in his chest, stirring something rotten lying dormant in the core of his being. Dark eyes roamed over the demonic form hovering above him, finding himself becoming consumed at the sight of her. His blood covering her hands, running over those perfect breasts. They're just the way he likes them, not too small or big, just the right size to fit in his palms. It's a poisonous thought that he'll force himself to forget altogether, but he vehemently wonders if they were made just for _him_.

Sakura's darkened eyes stare down at him and his blood runs cold at the look in them. They're burning a hole in him, but not with the same emotions rolling through his body. He doesn't recognize it, doesn't know where to begin placing something like this. His heart almost stops at a shattering realization.

Joker's never seen anything so _beautiful_ and _vicious_ in his life. He always believed nothing could ever top a sharp blade or a roaring fire, but this… It's like suddenly being struck by lightning, sending electrical impulses throughout every inch of him.

"Tell me..." Fuck her for doing this to him, for making him feel this way. "Tell me you want to be _inside_ of me." There's no chuckle at the end as she breathes hard, forcing his cock to slide between her wet lips, coating him in her warm slick. It's a delicious kind of pain, one he's not accustomed to.

The way his body trembles beneath her fills him with disgust at how it's reacting in such an intolerable way. Sweating profusely from his blood racing, he's falling into a daze he's not sure he wants to come back from. The throbbing need is overwhelming, begging him to do something about it. Adrenaline's coursing through his veins, threatening to explode his vessels at any moment.

Joker _hates _this woman...

But…

He hates _himself_ even more...

It's like a spell that he can't fight and he isn't sure if he even wants to anymore... He can feel himself getting harder at the way she says the incantation, something he could never imagine spilling from the lips of the pious Queen herself.

"_Hah_... I..." What the hell is he doing? Will he really let this woman take the reins? No bitch gets on top of him, let alone forces him to do _anything_. Joker does what he wants when he wants to. No one tells him otherwise... So why can't he help himself? Why is he ready to hammer the last nail into his own coffin?

"I-... _Fuck_... I want to be... _inside you_..." The words are poisonous in his mouth and he wants to rip his own lips off for uttering something he'd never dare to say in his miserable life. His face twists in agony when she grins sweetly, leaning back and coiling those soft fingers around his cock. A cold sweat breaks out along his skin from the touch, feeling the last bit of sanity starting to slip away. The pinkette shifts her hips and slowly lowers herself down, letting the tip penetrate the impossibly tight ring of muscles surrounding him.

Joker throws his head back against the pillow, clenching teeth as an unrecognizable whine tears from his scarred lips. He squeezes his dark eyes shut, not daring to watch, even if he wants to. The paralysis seems selective as this point, a fact completely lost on the clown as his body seizes up. The veins in his neck and face strain against the darkening skin that's turning from a tan hue to a deep shade of red. He can't breathe anymore, losing the ability to remember how to get it going.

"_Oh,_ _God_..." Sakura shudders out a moan, pressing her thighs hard against his pelvis. She forces her trembling legs apart, trying to take all of him inside of her with difficulty. It's painful how hot and tight she is around him. He wants to grab ahold of her, dig his nails and teeth into her skin, wrap his hands around that pale neck. The long, silky tresses dancing along his marred flesh from her leaning over are too soft, he feels the urge to lace his fingers through them and pull her head back.

"You feel... _so good_." Her words are like driving an ice pick into his ears, making this worse than it already is. Without warning, she slams her hands against his slippery chest, using him for leverage as she shifts, lifting her hips along his length. The noises coming from her lips are calling to him, igniting a ferocious part he doesn't want to acknowledge.

_'Oh no...'_

Joker can't stop his hips from moving, trying to meet her rhythm. Nothing listens and even if it did, he'd still find himself doing this. She has a terrible spell on him, using that damned sorcery to make him her puppet, winding the strings so tightly, he doesn't know if he'll ever be free of them.

_'I can't...'_

Dark pits can't look away anymore and he doesn't have any desire to. He _wants_ to watch this little woman take from him what she wants..._needs_. The throbbing in his chest only worsens when she starts muttering things he never imagined she would say, reaching forward to caress the scars around his mouth. The look in those eyes is something he's never seen in another person before. It shakes him to the core as his hands finally reach up, grabbing ahold of her hips in a bruising grip.

Instead of throwing her off or strangling the life out of the pinkette for her crimes against him, he holds on tight, bringing her closer than he's ever let anyone come in years. Her heated skin is setting him ablaze, scorching straight to the bone.

If holding her will burn him alive, then so be it.

Without thinking, he wraps a hand into those silky, pink locks, yanking her head down roughly to taste her lips. Soft, smooth, sweet...he _knew_ it. Her fingers feel along his face, tracing the jagged marks as she meets him with the same kind of ferocity. There's nothing tender about this kiss, all snarls, and teeth, trying to tear each other to pieces. No one's ever done this before, being far too afraid or disgusted of his scars...and it's setting him _off_.

If this is a dream, he no longer wants to wake up from it...

"Please... _Hah_… Please-_Please!"_ Sakura cries out and trembles, her chest becoming coated with his blood from pulling her down against him. He takes advantage of his newfound ability to move to pound into her viciously. The clown will show her _exactly_ who she's messing with and punish her for what she started that he's about to end.

The pinkette's pussy feels too good, better than he's ever had before and something deep inside whispers that he'll never find anything like this again. It's a damning thought, that he might be stuck yearning after her and having to keep coming back for more, to seek out a satisfaction nothing else will ever bring him. Then again… If he does the job _right_, perhaps she'll be stuck in the same boat.

The muscles clamping down on him forces his legs to shake beneath her and his nails to claw at her skin, itching to tear it off and drown himself in her blood. Joker wants to taste it, to see if it's as sweet as he imagines. His hot breaths wash over her pretty face and he can't resist letting out a moan in between the gasps. That's _not_ a noise he makes, trying to stifle any more noises before they get out of control.

This is too much. Too wet, too tight, too heavenly. Sakura tries to push off against him, to get away from what's so overwhelming when her climax hits. Her body convulses around him and she attempts to back off, but he holds her tight against his chest, refusing to let her move away from him. He wants her closer, to consume the woman entirely, something he never imagined he needs until now.

"Joker!... _Please_... More! I-I can't!" Her begging is driving him wild, drawing out a darker side that makes him feel _strong_, an animalistic urge pushing away any objection that may have been left. His jaw snaps, growling out and snarling as he takes over, letting everything that should've been long buried, finally resurface. She's submitting to him and it _won't_ be wasted.

_This can't be real..._

Joker doesn't know what comes over him, but he finds himself muttering her name, pulling this woman's body impossibly close when he feels her cumming on him. It brings something feral out, knowing he's the one that did this to her. This pious little _Queen_ who mocked and jeered at him is completely losing herself around him. No longer the image of antagonistic perfection, she's _screaming_ against his lips when he slams his ruined mouth against hers, swallowing the monarch's agony as she hands control over to him. The fact that it's only because she's _allowing_ him to, makes this that much sweeter.

His hips jerked erratically, bucking hard and pounding up into her as he loses himself, unable to hold back anymore. Fuck, he _wants_ this... He hates her so much for making him desire this so badly, for making him want _anything_. Nails tear into her skin and he grimaces in pain from trying to hold back, letting himself fall into whatever hole he dug himself into.

It strikes him _hard_ with more intensity than any fist or weapon ever could. Like getting hit by a dump truck that's dragging him down the streets he endlessly terrorizes. Joker can't even _try_ to stop himself when he cums inside of her, heaving loudly at each hot wave washing over him. His body shudders beneath her when she _shrieks_, feeling the rush of molten streams coming from him with each hard thrust, forcing himself deep inside of her body.

Sakura drops her head against his bleeding chest, clinging to his shoulders and moaning from him filling her to the brim. It's draining, like the climax robbed him of his energy and sucked some of the life from him. Joker tries to catch his breath, still far too overwhelmed to say or do anything. He's still inside her, not willing to move her or pull himself out.

If possible, he wants to stay here..._forever_.

All he needs is a carton of cigarettes, then he and the big man upstairs can call it even for all the bullshit hand that he's been dealt.

With a chuckle, the pinkette struggles to lean up, panting softly and the warmth of her breaths dance over his damp skin. He forces his heavy lids to open to gaze at her, enjoying how that immaculate appearance is nowhere in sight. Even as a hot mess, she's still a sight for sore eyes. If anything, the clown thinks Sakura looks more beautiful right now, than she ever has before.

She running a hand through his sweaty waves, gently moving them away from his face. The look she's giving him has his insides coiling up, twisting and knotting in a strange way, but he doesn't entirely hate it.

This feels odd, yet enjoyable in an unfamiliar way. Joker feels completely comfortable like he can lay his head against the pillow and rest with her laying against him. There's no fear of someone trying to beat or stab him, nothing stressful or to spike his paranoia.

He's satisfied right now, but there's a hunger lingering just beneath the surface. One that's never going away. He wants _more_, to do it again and again, until there's nothing left of him, except a husk of a man. She can take it all and he'll willingly give it to her.

"_Jack_..." Dark eyes widen when she calls out his _real_ name. The one no one on this planet is privy too. Anyone who used to know it is long dead. He made sure of _that_. "I want you so badly. I have this whole time…" He almost can't believe his own ears, hearing what's spilling from this wicked succubus' mouth... The things she says always throw him through a loop.

"Jack... I-"

* * *

"Boss!" A whispered hiss jolts him awake. His dark eyes are on the verge of becoming bloodshot as they stare around wildly.

_'No...'_

"Boss! Hey... Harold's gonna be on his way. We don't have much time."

_'No... Fucking no...'_

Joker heaves, his jaw completely slack as he looks up towards the ceiling. This isn't real. No fucking way...

_"Boss!"_ The voice is louder, more urgent. He knows who it was and why he's here, but that doesn't make him any less irate.

A growl rips through his chest as he forces himself to sit up on the bed, moving the scattered cards all around him. What the fuck just happened? Sweat is dripping down his face and neck, still feeling dazed. He tries to get his breathing under control as images flash in front of his eyes. The urge to scream and destroy everything he can get his hands on is overpowering.

Rage makes him tremble, before glaring towards the guard standing at the glass door, the person who woke him up. Logically, this isn't that man's fault, he's just following orders, but that doesn't seem to matter.

_Not now..._

"Boss, the other guards are going to be here any minute. I have to get out of here..." He sounds nervous as if the staff is something to be worried about. It should be _him_ that he's scared of...

"If you don't mind having your throat slit ear-to-ear, then by all means..." His voice is husky when it comes out, something that makes him even angrier.

Looking down, dark eyes fly open when the clown realizes what he's _done_.

_'No way... No fucking way!'_

Trying to be discrete, he grabs one of the extra sheets he has wrapped up in his bedding and pulls it under the blanket. It's not that he cares what others think, this is more for himself. This is positively _fucking_ humiliating...

Chewing on the scar tissue inside of his cheek, he tries to appear like he's sleepily scratching his stomach, attempting to rid himself of any evidence of this searing, hot _shame_... Another feeling he thought was long gone. Grunting, he shoves the sheet as far away from himself as possible, wanting to burn it along with the entirety of the asylum.

_'That can be arranged...'_

Pulling his jumpsuit back up over his upper body and zipping it up, Joker gets off the bed and stalks over towards the glass. The moron's standing there, looking back and forth, in case anyone's coming.

_'Fucking idiot. I'm the only one you should be worried about.'_

Shoving his arms through the holes in the glass, he latches onto the guard shoulders and slams him up against the doors. Snarling in front of the face smushed up against it, he puts on the most menacing face he can manage after what just happened. It's not his best, but still enough to make grown men shit bricks. The lackey's eyes pop open, realizing the horrible mistake he's made. There isn't a single person in this entire building he should truly be afraid of, only the Boss.

"S-Sorry, Boss..." Dark eyes glare at the man wildly, their feral appearance making him shake. He needs to know his place, to remember the reality of this situation. Being employed here as a guard has clearly made him forget, but seeing the vicious look and the bloodlust dripping from the Joker brings it all back in only a split-second. Complacency isn't something no one can afford to have while working for him. If anyone needs a reminder, he's _more_ than willing to give it.

"H-Here. I brought what you asked me for. The cameras won't turn back for another five minutes." A shaky hand reaches out with papers folded neatly between his trembling fingers. Eyeing the sheets, a malicious grin spreads across the clown's face as he lets go of the guard, making him stumble back. Before the man can blink, they're snatched away.

"Now get the fuck out of here, before I break your neck." Joker doesn't bother looking back towards the guard as he turns away, more preoccupied with what's now in his possession. The tapping echoing through the hall signals the man's quick retreat.

This doesn't feel real.

If he didn't need this body, Joker would stab himself to death for what just played out only minutes ago. How can something like _this_ happen to him of all people? What is he, some prepubescent brat? Even then, shit like that rarely occurred.

"Fuck!" A large fist collides with his head. Without hesitating, he does it again and again, trying to knock some sense into the rebellious cranium connected to his neck.

This is _all_ that bitch's fault. Playing games and toying with him endlessly... Forcing herself on him and doing things he never asked for...

Pacing around the cell, he grips the papers tightly, trying to resist the urge to rip them apart with his teeth. The card in between them is the only thing keeping the sheets from being balled up. No, he'll need this card and can't break it...

The clown pushes hard breath through his ruined lips, making his scarred cheeks puff out. This is terrible, unbelievable… He stomps around the small area, stopping in different spots as he tries to calm himself down.

"Fucking _bitch!"_ Joker smashes his head against the glass door, letting out a bone-rattling roar. This is all Sakura's fault… Her and that goddamn magic bullshit.

Joker hates her, he hates her so much...and himself for letting her do this shit to him. That stupid little whore flaunting her body around the shower room for the guards. Sweet talking everyone to get what she wants. Mocking and trying to twist him around those dainty little fingers...

She has to pay.

If it's the last thing he ever does, he's going to make her _suffer_ for doing this. Fuck whatever they have in common, screw their conversations, forget the things she's done for him. The clown hates her and the way she makes him feel. Despises the things she dragged out of him. He can't stand that antagonizing witch and her sorcery.

Looking up, the cell across the hall is still empty. Probably still in the shower room, giving everyone a show. The images from that nightmare dance across his eyes, making his heart feel cold and mean. Something's driving him to edge, pushing him to fall down the maddening spiral staircase that constantly plagues him. He slams his skull against the glass until blood trickles from where the skin on his forehead split and drips down his face.

Sakura's going to wish she never laid eyes on him. That she never tried to bewitch him... Kept those godforsaken spells to herself and sat in her cell quietly, until the assessment finally arrives.

The pinkette won't get approved. No way in _hell_. He'll make sure of it. She's not going anywhere. Not until he's finished with her and can cross her name off of his list.

Licking his lips, he whirls around and stomps towards the bed, angrily plopping down to look over what his subordinate brought him. As expected, a keycard is between the folded papers. That'll be necessary to do anything around here unless he has the tools to dig through the wall to get to the wires for the control panel. Which he doesn't... That would take too long and draw attention.

Just barely managing a grin, he holds the card between his fingers and slides it into the pocket of his jumpsuit. Unfolding the sheets, his scrunches up as he quickly skims each line.

Dark eyes turn in saucers and his brows shoot up high on his bleeding forehead. If anything could calm him down or douse some of the fire burning on the inside, this is it.

"No fucking way..." He mutters to himself, reading and rereading the words, almost unsure if his eyes are working correctly. A sly grin tugs at the corners of his scarred mouth. This is something he can use right now.

Excitement blossoms, just barely matching the rage still coursing through his veins... He'll have to throw his dog an extra treat for this one. It's _too_ good.

"HAHAHAHA!" Throwing his head back, his black heart swells at the thought of the pinkette's face if she knew what he's reading, how devastated she would be. Now he has ammo for his gun and he'll aim it straight at her chest and pull the trigger.

Flopping back against the mattress, he can barely manage to let go of the anger and shame towards himself at what happened in his sleep. This is her fault, not his. She did this to herself...

Rolling over, he can't stop grinning and laughing to himself as new plans form in his mind. _Hoo boy_, this is per-fect.

Something catches his eye, while he holds the papers close, letting his head drop down against the sweaty pillow. A drawn-out breath makes his chest feel lighter as he shifts against the bed, moving over.

Sitting up, the side of his mouth quirks up when he looks down at the cards lying next to him on the blanket. Of _all_ the hilariously ironic things in life... Dark eyes narrow and his jaw clenches in agitation.

The Jack of Spades and Queen of Hearts...

Just like every part of his life, they will burn.

_'After all, everything burns...'_


	13. Vengeance

"Hahaha..." Sakura can't help laughing to herself, despite still being agitated by Harold. What a troublesome guy...

It's funny. Who would've imagined the _Joker_ sitting on the floor, showing her how to play a card game? The pinkette knew he'd do it, even if he pretended to be reluctant at first.

_'He could've told me to piss off...'_

The pinkette's been in this world for only a few years, with most of it spent in this building, but she knows what playing cards are. Some of the patients use them in the community room. They have those in her dimension too, along with other games, such as shoji.

That word alone brings up old images of Shikamaru and Asuma having a heated showdown. Ino would drag her around the village and they'd run into the pair in random places, always deep in concentration. The team leader usually blamed the Yamanaka for losing, saying her constant talking was too distracting...

_'I miss it... I miss them...'_

Part of her feels slightly guilty for misleading the clown, yet it turned out to be quite insightful. The clown's actions and words contradict themselves often, but they say a lot about the kind of person he is.

Joker likes games and is knowledgeable about the cards themselves and the different ways to use them. He's likely been in situations with quite a bit time on his hands and that's where the appreciation for card games comes from. Maybe he was left alone at a young age or gets a rush from beating people at something.

From the way he quickly plays Solitaire — _over and over again_ — she'd bet her bottom dollar that he's spent a lot of time alone and uses it as a means of keeping himself entertained. Whether it results from a lack of friends or being locked-up, is another question in itself. Probably a mix of both, considering his antisocial personality. Another theory is that perhaps the clown believes his level of intellect to be higher than others, and would rather play by himself, than with those that are 'beneath him'.

It was easy to surmise the pastime is the inspiration for his criminal alias before she knew that he uses it as his calling card. After all, the papers only really started covering his cases with more in-depth within the last year. Leaving a Joker card at a crime scene or sending it as a warning became a trademark act.

The clown seems to enjoy having control of a situation and what people understand about it. That's apparent in his schemes and the way he manipulates information. She knows that's one of the reasons he was eager to teach her. The clown enjoys believing he understands a topic that she doesn't and the idea of controlling her knowledge of the cards.

Despite how wayward Joker is, there are a few good traits that she picked up on. He was patient with her, even when she played the fool, taking the time to explain or reiterate whatever was needed. In a way, it's kind of endearing taking his personality into account. Someone that's a compulsive liar and always tries to trick people was genuinely being honest with her for some reason.

Surprisingly, the clown didn't lie the entire time they played or attempt to cheat like she initially expected. The pinkette can usually feel it when he does. Being able to sort out the truth from bullshit's an important for a kunoichi. Something small like that can lead to disaster, even death.

Does Sakura trust him? _Nope_... Never again will she completely put her faith in anyone. That's exactly how a person ends up getting hurt or worse. A shinobi always watches their back and front, never letting their guard down.

Not after Sasuke... The one from her world and this one...

_'Don't think about that asshole...'_

It was horrifying to know that she said the Uchiha's name in her sleep and out of all the people, the clown's the one to hear it. There's no doubt he'll use it against her at some point. That's probably one of the very few things that can actually get under her skin. He has no idea what that name means to her… Although, he probably wouldn't care anyway.

Jeanie's a sore spot for him, but she won't use it as ammo. _No_... She understands all too well how much pain a name can conjure up. Despite the clown being a sadist that enjoys others suffering, that not the kind of game she likes to play. There's more than enough of that to go around, without creating more.

_'Must've been an ex-girlfriend or lover. Probably left him or passed away from the way he said her name.'_

Even though he can be a dick, Sakura knows there's more to him than what the papers and guards claim. It's the little things he does, even the ones behind the grand schemes that are so interesting.

A shinobi can sense murderous intent right away. She could feel it randomly coming from the clown in waves, but not always directed towards her as often, unlike the first week and a half after they brought him in. Whenever the guards walk by or come for him, it's overwhelming... almost _suffocating_.

In comparison to the people here, shinobi are more skilled in concealing their intent, until the last moment. That fact only makes life far more dangerous on the other side. If their senses aren't keen enough at detecting things of that nature, they can end up having their throat slit with a kunai, before realizing what even happened.

The other patients in the asylum are a different story when it comes to bloodlust. Some are completely consumed with it, while others have it trigger and spike it from certain people or objects. D and J-block are hands down the worst when it comes to that sickening sensation. She can _taste_ their intent in the air... These are bloodthirsty criminals mixed with severe mental instability. Although, living around them for so long has been very... _educational_.

Out of the ones Sakura's had the displeasure of encountering, Joker is the most dangerous of all. Something in her gut makes that very apparent. It's not just the way people handle or react around him, but she can sense it from sitting across the hall, day after day. Even if he can't beat her in a physical fight, that doesn't mean he isn't capable of doing anything else.

If a person underestimates someone, that's how they end up with the tip of a blade piercing their ribs. She _can't_ become complacent. That'll be a grave mistake, even if they seem to be getting along for the time being. He's known for getting people to let their guard down and that's when he goes in for the kill.

Despite appearing at ease, that isn't the case. The longer this goes on, the more she's waiting for him to pull something. If the pinkette wasn't a medic with keen senses, she probably wouldn't have noticed the medication added to the food the guards brought. Most medications in this world have no effect on her, so he'll have to try better than that.

_'If I was a normal woman, I'd be dead by now…'_

Joker's a man that does as he pleases and doesn't take kindly to being told what to do... That's exactly why she told him to kill her multiple times, after the first attempt. If he thinks that's what she truly desires, he'll hold off to deny giving her what she wants. It's a dangerous game, but she needs to play her cards right. A person that revels in psychological games to his extent is tricky. It can go either way. Luckily, he's demented enough to want her to suffer and do things on his own terms.

If the clown kills her now, it'll appear as if he did it, because she told him to. Sakura knows that doesn't sit well with him. He likes taking his victims off guard and enjoys the unpredictability of his crimes. To watch them squirm and beg for their lives, becoming desperate and give in to their 'flight or fight' responses… Joker relishes the chase and gets off on the kill.

If she acts like her life means nothing and doesn't react much to the threat, it won't satisfy his cravings for violence. He's a predator that lusts after the feeling of being dominant over something beneath him, thriving off of their reactions and fear. Showing none makes him angry, but also takes away the thrill he's seeking.

Even when his hands were wrapped around her throat and his body was emanating bloodlust, she gave him _nothing_. Not an ounce of fear, no begging or crying, just a blank slate. Aside from killing him, this is the only way to combat his urges. He tries to control himself and fight the instincts that drove him to where he is now. It's all so... _intriguing_. At first, this was just a game to pass the time. She wanted to get inside his head and see what kind of person he is, compared to what others have said and reported. Half of it's true, yet the other part is far more complicated.

Sakura thinks she's getting a pretty good grasp on him and what's inside that head of his, even if he can be unpredictable at times. He's very interesting... Despite their conflicting personalities and coming from completely different lives, it feels like they really might be able to understand each other.

While she was thrown out of her world and woke up in an entirely different dimension, he's similar in a way. The clown was born here, yet society rejects him in a way she can relate to. Neither can find their place and don't seem to belong. Both have suffered in more ways than one and have scars to show it, though hers aren't visible. They have nothing left to protect or strive for, are completely lost, and just going with the punches, while throwing some back in return.

Joker and Sakura have seemingly meaningless lives, yet aren't willing to hand it over in the same token.

Either way, he has her attention. Just as she expected, he's very smart, despite the shortcomings in his personality. She enjoys talking to him and watching the way he reacts to the things she does. It was just for entertainment at first, but part of her is strangely drawn to him. Perhaps, it's just having a screwed-up kindred spirit in this place or feeling a bit lonely.

The other patients here are much to converse with... They're either far too medicated or want to rip someone's throat out. Even with all of the cruel acts this place is doing to him, Joker still retains he who is. That's an impressive feat for a regular human, with no special abilities or powers. There's no chakra to protect his body or mind, nothing but sheer will power and refusal to bend to anyone's whims. What a strange person... They can break his body, but his mind and personality are so strong, no one's able to touch it...

_'Fascinating...'_

The assessment's coming up very soon. Honestly, she already knows what's going to happen. _Denied_. That's how it's meant to be. At least in here, things aren't that bad. There aren't any Uchiha she has to deal with, like out there. The only time one pops up, is around this time every year, just to remind her of their offer and what she's giving up. Unless that man finds a way back to their dimension, she doesn't want to see his ugly mug.

No way will Haruno Sakura, the kunoichi that surpassed Senju Tsunade, become a pawn for that monster_. No fucking way_. If only she was stronger, perhaps there'd be a chance of getting away, but there isn't.

That man... He's changed a lot compared to when they were in the other world but is still the same in many ways. Just like before, he thrives off controlling others, even if the methods are vastly different. Still as cruel and sadistic as ever, just with a new set of tools to do it with.

_'Despicable...'_

Sakura _loathes_ that man with every fiber of her being, far more than she ever could Sasuke. No... Aside from the yearly visits to rub it in her face, he doesn't bother her in here. There's an image he presents to the public in this world that for some twisted reason, he's trying to maintain, while pulling strings from behind the curtains.

Just like her, he can't return either... That's already been established a few years ago. It seems that he gets off on the fact there's a soul in this dimension that knows his true identity and has seen him in all his terrible glory. They're the only two that understand what each other are and come from. Perhaps, he enjoys riling her up or trudging up painful memories of the past, but always comes with an offer and enjoys the knowledge that she'd rather suffer than take him up on it.

She's strong, unbelievably so... but he's far more powerful and terrifying. Naruto almost lost his life just trying to deal with him, so what chance does she have? If he wants to, he can demolish the building and drag her off somewhere. Yes, there'll be one hell of a fight, but she'll lose and is woman enough to admit it.

The fact that he hasn't is a small godsend in itself. The pinkette would rather die than become his dog. The only reason that hasn't happened yet, is because he wants the pinkette to come of her own accord, to know he has power over the situation, without using his chakra. Everything's a game now, unlike the brutal takeover he tried in the past.

_'A fucked-up game of cat and mouse...'_

She'll stay here on her own terms. Anything this place can do is nothing compared to what she's already experienced or the acts that man will commit.

_"Hn. You are a strange woman. If you want to waste your time in this odd building, then by all means… Just know, you're going to stay here, until you accept my offer. Let's see how long you last... I've done my research on this horrendous place, but you're also a kunoichi of Konoha. This should be nothing, but child's play."_

_"I'm a patient man, Sakura. Since we're both from the same village, I was trying to be generous, but you're just as stubborn as the Senju. Dance all you want, but you will lose your footing eventually and fall to pieces. When that happens, I will be there to pick them up."_

_"You will see things my way, eventually. I always get what I want in this world, but you're acting like another foolish woman. Your shishou was just as strong-willed and I broke her like a twig, with my own hands. If you want to be this way, then rot here, until you come to your senses. I'm the authority now and nothing gets by me. One day, you will see the error in your ways and beg me to set you free. There's nothing, but time now… I'll wait."_

_"If you're transferred or released, I'll take that as your surrender. You want to put on a front that you're durable and strong, so let's see it. How long can you last in this place, before you become as mad as the people it houses? This will be our little game. What will happen first? Will you come to me willingly or give into insanity? I've seen what these animals are like on my way here. How many months or years can you stay and keep yourself intact? How interesting... I'm keen on finding out the answer myself. Don't be concerned, I won't do anything, while you're in here. It's when you leave that you should be worried."_

Seeing the smug look on his face in her mind is almost enough to put her fist through the wall as the guards lead her back to D-block. His words are always in the back of her mind, even when she doesn't want them to be. So different, yet still the same douchebag as before...

Sakura would rather stay in Arkham for the rest of her life than deal with that bastard. He's living a life of luxury on the outside, thanks to his counterpart he replaced after being sent to this dimension, just as she did. Two of the same can't exist in the same world...

_'I need to do something, before the assessment...' _

It's a loathsome task, but part of a vicious cycle that never seems to end. That time of year is close and she needs to cause some trouble or do something to ensure her place here. Aside from that, she mostly keeps to herself. Perhaps she deserves it for being weak and not being able to save her comrades during the war. So many of them had died... If only she was stronger, some of it could've been prevented.

_'Shishou, Kakashi-sensei, Ino, Neji, Tenten, Hinata, Lee...'_

What happened to Sasuke and Naruto is a mystery in itself. If Sasuke made it to this world, then the other one would've disappeared, so she knows he's not here.

_'I wouldn't want to see him anyway...'_

Oh, well... That was then, this is now. There are more important things to think about, than someone that never gave two-shits about her. If she's going to chase after anyone again, it'll only be a man that wants her just as much. Why should she settle for less or unrequited love? She understands her worth and isn't the same starry-eyed girl from Konoha. The things that attracted her before are different now. Looks and a clan name mean nothing in comparison to how a person feels and treats you. Superficial attributes are inconsequential to the important things that should make up a relationship...

"So... Are you enjoying your new book?" Harold appears to be in a better mood now. The way this man acts can really be obnoxious and overbearing, yet he's still helpful. At least, he looks away in the shower room, unlike some of the guards she's dealt with before... Things have changed quite a bit, since Amadeus' term as head of the asylum. Those were some pretty bad days...

"Of course! I absolutely love it. I spent most of the day reading it." The sweetness tastes bitter in her mouth.

"That's good. It makes me happy to hear that...' A breathy sigh flutters out as he holds onto her bicep, guiding the pinkette down the hall. "...I really wish you wouldn't talk to that clown. He's up to no good. I can just feel it. That bastard's dangerous and I don't want something bad happening."

If only he knew... The pinkette has to restrain the urge to chuckle. If he wants to get serious, she can break every bone in his body in less than a minute. From the way he's acting lately and trying to restrain himself, it's clear the message from their last encounter got through to him. If he wants to end her, can't be head-on attack again. The next time will be less predictable and have more thought put into it.

If possible, she does want to hurt him, but won't hesitate to put Joker in his place, if he tries to harm her again. Part of her feels bad because it's physically similar to a Jonin beating up on an academy student, though the situation's quite different. The clown's a grown man that kills and destroys everything in his path and is a mastermind. She needs to watch everything going on _very_ carefully.

Casting aside the thoughts of him wanting to kill her, the odd man is starting to grow on her in a weird way. Their conversations and jabs are... enjoyable and entertaining, to say the least. There's some kind of screwed up game going on between them, but for now, there's somewhat of an understanding. Especially after the night she healed him when he was in bad shape. Seeing him in that state bothered her... It's not right for a facility that's supposed to be helping patients to instead, inflict pain on them. If that's how the medical professionals handle that in this world, she wants no part in it.

"Don't worry, Harold. I can handle it. You worry too much... Such a _kind_ man, haha." His face breaks out into an awkward smile at her words. It doesn't take much...

"If you say so, but just be careful... Here we are." Finally reaching the small stretch to the cell, Sakura steps back, while the guard opens the glass door to let her inside. Back into her cage… This is very different from the days she used to glide through trees in the forest. Free as the wind and just as fast.

Green eyes curiously glance over towards the cell across the hall. Sometimes, she just can't help herself. There's only so much to look at or do in such a small space.

Joker's sitting on his bed, staring right at her. A lump forms in her throat and she quickly looks away. Why does he always have to do that? It makes her feel...

_'What would I call it?'_

Turning away and padding across the smooth floor to get behind the glass, a strange sensation causes her stomach to twist in knots. Furrowing her brows, the pinkette can't help feeling that something's off. Perhaps it's intuition? Maybe it's in the air?

"I'll see you later, Sakura. Have to do rounds." The dark-haired man says as he presses the key card against the control pad, locking her away back into confinement.

"Okay. See you later..." She smacks that feigned gentle smile onto her face, waiting for him to walked away to drop it.

When he finally leaves, Sakura lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. At least when she deals with the clown, she doesn't have to put up _too_ much of a front. It's more comfortable in a strange way to feel like she can relax… The pinkette can be herself a bit more, without having to worry about being judged. Not that she cares, if he does. A murderous clown with an itch for pyrotechnics doesn't seem like a person with much room for judgment and can be a little more open-minded.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sakura looks back up and notices that he's still staring intently. Narrowing her eyes, the pinkette shifts her head to the side from seeing the expression on his face.

_'What's with him?'_

Despite only being gone for maybe an hour at most, something has definitely changed in a short time. They were sitting on the floor, having a somewhat friendly card game, and talking. For some reason, the clown's mood from earlier didn't seem to carry over to the present time.

The look in his eyes... They're filled with loathing, anger, and copious amounts of ill-intent. Why the hell's he glaring at her like that? It's not like she did anything at the moment. The clown isn't the type to get _that_ upset over ending a game early, either.

Sakura doesn't like it. Not one bit. He hasn't had _that look_ in his eyes for a little while now. Weren't they starting to get along... Kind of?

* * *

The pink-haired witch is back... What shower takes _that_ long? She was up to something or doing what he originally imagined.

_'Slut...'_

Dark eyes watch the woman carefully as her boy-toy lets her back into the cell, looking for telltale signs for proof of his theory. Sakura won't have any unless there are marks on her neck, but that long hair's blocking his view. In the shower room, people wash up and get a fresh jumpsuit, so it's useless checking her out.

Harold doesn't pay close attention to details, like the pinkette. He's a sloppy bastard and out of the two, he'll be the one to get them caught. Dark eyes flicker over the buffoon, trying to find evidence for his case against that witch. If his belt's on differently or a button's undone, that will give it away. The clown knows something _has_ to be going on and is completely convinced of it.

Shifting his jaw, there doesn't _appear_ to be anything out of the ordinary. Then again, Sakura's smart and won't make such an obvious mistake.

_'I'm going to kill him. Mhmm... Next chance I get.'_

The bullshit the guard pulls is more than enough to guarantee it, but now there's no extra room for patience. If Joker wants to, he can take the keycard out to open the glass door and break the bastard's neck where he stands… Fortunately for him, there's someone else deserving of his attention right now.

The clown can feel his left eye twitching _again_ from hearing the sweet words spilling from those pink lips to the guard as he leaves. Getting under his skin seems to be the witch's main objective.

Remembering the _nightmare_ from barely half an hour ago, his blood starts boiling at the images and sensations it provokes. The scarce amount of time he sleeps is meant for him to rest in the darkness, not have a tryst with some little jezebel. That weird magic of hers must've caused it… That's the only logical explanation.

Waiting for them to return from the shower room, Joker used the time to sit on the bed and look over the papers his goon brought. Despite having something important in his hands, nothing clever bubbled up to the surface on what to do with them. That's been happening recently and it's mind-boggling. He likes to think of himself as creative and full of ingenuity, always coming up with elaborate plans on the spot. Quick on his feet, mind, and tongue… Despite all that, the clown just stared at the sheets, drawing an incomprehensible blank.

Violence is a form of art he's passionate about. True artistry comes with grace and imagination. There's a certain finesse one needs to possess to pull it off with ease and leave their mark on the world. He's a painter that wants to color life in streaks of red and black, maybe with a few bursts of orange to add some pizzazz. As a visionary with a clear view of the picture he's trying to conceive, it's never been difficult to come up with a starting point for _anything_.

As Joker fixes his dark eyes on a smudge along the grimy wall, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. The pallet is _right_ there, being gripped by one of his calloused hands. It's the one he's been using to create this masterpiece of Sakura's downfall. Watching the witch shatter into pieces will be his greatest achievement to date. The image has been pushing the clown forward, since the day those buffoons dragged him through the asylum doors. And yet… The paintbrush his fingers are itching for is nowhere in sight.

_'Bitch…'_

These are only a few papers that were photocopied from Harleen's office, but they contain plenty of information about _some_ of the crimes Sakura's committed. There's also the initial psychiatric evaluation from when she was brought in three years ago.

_'Boy... and they say I'm crazy...'_

Such savagery and pretending to be oblivious... At least he has the balls to admit what he does, flaunt it even. This just throws everything he thinks about her back into that pesky gray area. Then again, sometimes details aren't always completely accurate. A look at his own file will prove that. It doesn't have even 30% of the shit he's pulled in there.

Is Sakura _that_ crazy? Or was the pinkette driven into shock from the acts she committed and lost her mind? How can she not remember murdering _all_ those people? What about the crimes before that? It doesn't make sense after getting to know her a bit better. With that monstrous strength, it would've been possible to pull off, but that doesn't seem like something she'd do. On the other hand, they're all here for a reason...

After reading through the sheets, the clown knows he needs to get the rest of the file for more information. The moron working for him only snagged a small portion. It's not even complete but says more than enough.

_'Sakura said we're more alike than I think... She's right, but I never imagined how wild she can be.'_

If the pinkette wasn't such a deceitful wench, they could've had plenty of fun together outside of the asylum. With a woman like that, there' never be a dull moment. Who'd think a small witch like that can be in his league when it comes to violence?

Such a _shame_... If only she hadn't turned out to be so... _sad_. What a tragedy.

_'Heh.'_

It makes him angry. How can she be so pathetic? To let a man do that to her and sit quietly in a cell, while they're still out there? If it was him, he would've slit their throat long before anyone had the chance to haul him off to Arkham.

_'It doesn't matter. She's here now and that was a while ago.'_

Either way, he's going to use this against her to see what he can drag out and make her suffer for everything she's done to him. Making the clown second guess himself, playing mind games and humiliating him, being distracting. Worst of all, causing such a messed-up dream to happen and what occurred after that...

Grinding his teeth, Joker glares at the woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Every so often, those green eyes glance over in curiosity. She must sense a difference. This woman's too perceptive of him and already knows too much. There's no other way about it, the witch _has_ to go. He doesn't like the way he's been feeling as of late, it's... _disgusting_.

Doing and thinking things he shouldn't... dreaming about ridiculous shit. He sat there thinking over and over again about what's causing it. A spell? That ability? Is it something he subconsciously fears or even desires? That thought alone is unbearable.

Sakura needs to go, but he doesn't have a good enough plan to end her yet. At the same time, her assessment's coming up and he can't allow her to leave. What if she ends up somewhere he won't be able to reach? Possibly a facility he can't easily break into to torment her? Or disappear like she never existed in the first place? He knows exactly what that's like. For a person to shed their old skin and become someone else... It's easier than anyone can imagine.

"What's wrong?" A grimace passes over his face at the sound of her voice. This woman picks up on things too quickly for his comfort.

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, twisting his lips into the permanent smile his scars give him. What kind of expression will she make if he shows her this? Or mentions it? How will the little hussy take his taunting and jeering? She's done it enough times to him. Can she handle a small portion of what she's dished out? Will the pinkette become as irate and angry as he did?

"Nothing... Nothing wrong over here, _princess_." The way her neck cranes back at the title makes him want to laugh more than he already does. Sitting up on the side of the bed, the clown slides the papers into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

What is she expecting from him? To be _friends _or nice to each other? Sakura really is a sad woman and he knows it. That he actually started thinking highly of her is a shame in itself. Sure... She's strong, intelligent, and can be just as vicious as him, but to know the witch is pining after someone that betrayed her is intolerable. It makes everything else seem inconsequential.

Joker heard it… The way she said that man's name in her sleep wasn't in hatred or anger. The words sounded closer to longing, missing someone dear. It's right here, in his pocket. The proof that this woman isn't the_ 'Queen' _she pretends to be. Just as dirty and bloodthirsty as the rest of them, yet allowed someone to go unchecked. She let them live, after handing her over and didn't finish the job. Perhaps she couldn't do it, but that's not a good enough excuse. He didn't hesitate with Jeanie...

_'You don't miss someone that does you dirty. You rip them to pieces...'_

Her Majesty has a weak spot and this only confirms his theory. How will she feel to have it all thrown in her face? To be humiliated about it? Will she lash out or completely deny anything he says? The clown knows very well that a little ink on paper holds little weight, but that's inconsequential. The facts _don't_ matter, only the responses he can elicit from them do.

"_Bullshit_. You're up to something. What is it?' Her pink lips shift as she watches him. How will she react? Can he finally see that unrestrained anger he desires? Hatred? Embarrassment? Those emotions that she's denied him for so long? Just the thought of it has the adrenaline _surging_ through his veins. To see the pious, little woman that constantly holds herself in check, completely lose it.

What a sight it'll be to witness Sakura in all her _vicious_ glory.

Joker has to give it to her... She's held back, despite the names and the provocation he's tossed her way through the days and nights since he was carted in. He wants to see her snap more than anything. To prove they really aren't different and even she has buttons that can be pushed, no matter how carefully they're hidden.

"Hahaha... _Fine_. Ya twisted my arm, dollface!" Snaking his tongue out over the forked scar that splits his bottom lip, he goes back and forth in his mind on how to go about this. Different ideas bounce around, like a game of ping pong, yet deviously smart surfaces. Should he ease into it or just smack everything in that pretty face at once?

Dark eyes narrow seeing the look she's giving him. General curiosity, interest, and calmness he knows must've been practiced over the years. It _agitates_ him. Why doesn't she ever show him fear? Is she that confident in her abilities or him not doing something to her?

_'Stupid woman... That's how you get screwed. Learn your lesson well and stop making the same mistakes.'_

"Found something just so... _interesting... _lying on the ground..." Pulling the papers out of his pocket, Joker decides to just go in for the kill. He doesn't have the patience to play this game anymore. Not after what happened earlier. "Who knew you were such a, ah, _monster_?"

Sakura cocks her head to the side, glancing at the sheets in his hand. If there's any surprise, she's doing a great job of hiding it. He almost frowns at the lack of response, but they're not done yet.

"Yeah... and? What's your point? Just to prove you can get your hands on whatever you want, even behind that glass? Hahaha! _How_ _lame_..." The vein in his forehead twitches from hearing the laughter coming from her side. He's heard it more times than he can count, but it's different this time... _Forced_.

_'Fuck... Give this bitch an Oscar. Acting like she doesn't care, even though she understands the implications...'_

"I'm surprised Sakura. _Honestly_... When ya said we're similar, I didn't take ya too seriously. Not gonna lie." That smug look is nowhere to be found on her face as she eyes him warily. "But after reading this, I believe ya! You're just as screwed up as the rest of us. Killing your own friends, acting stupid, believing in imaginary _bullshit_." The pounding in his chest is almost enough to make him tremble in delight. The pinkette might be expressionless, but those green eyes say everything.

"You don't know what you're talking about... _Trust me_..." The words are quiet, controlled. Maybe this file isn't complete or wholly accurate from the way she's reacting, but he knows where her button is. He just needs to push it... _hard_.

"I'd never trust someone like you, sweetheart. Never know when you're gonna stab me in the back like your, ah, _dear_ _old friends_. Didn't see it coming, did they? You really are ruthless, after all! Can't say I don't _like_ it. I can appreciate another's artwork at times." Manic laughter bounces off the walls of the small cell as the clown notices her fists clenching.

_'She's getting angry... I can see it. This is great... The pious, little witch just needs a push in the right direction.'_

"You're the one that shouldn't trust people. I never took you for such a _moron_, doll. What were you expecting? You healed me a few times and we played a card game, so what? We're friends now or somthin'? It's those people ya have to watch out for the most. The ones ya start letting in… I don't need to explain. Ya already _know_ that, don't ya?"

Frozen on the edge of the bed, her eye twitches and he can see how tense her muscles are beneath that pale skin. Just like the way her claws dug into his flesh in the dream from earlier, the clown wants to do the same to her. Rip the pinkette's chest open and bathe his fingers in her blood. Put his hand over her heart and feel how it pounds under his touch as rage courses through her veins.

"Shut up. You know _nothing_... Think you're smart just because you got some loser to sneak around and get bullshit info on me? Can't even do it yourself, can you?" Shoving her hand beneath the mattress, she bolts up and steps towards the glass.

_'Angry, little doll. Haha!'_

Sakura shoves her arm through the hole in the glass. The clown cocks an eye when he sees the keycard in her hand. What the hell is she doing?

Joker cranes his head back, watching the woman shifting on her feet. Biting back the bards hanging on his tongue, he settles on finding out what she's trying to do. Her entire arm's sticking out of the other side of the door. She can't use that green glow from this distance, right? Has to be in close range?

At first, he thought she was going for the control pad to open the door to beat the shit out of him. That's on the opposite side of the cell, so what is the witch trying to pull? Attempting to get one of the guard's attention from down the hall?

Pulling her wrist back, she glares at him and it snaps it a quick motion. Before he has time to react, the card flies across the hall and through the hole in his own cell. Dark eyes pop open when it comes straight at him, spinning wildly. He tries to jump out of the way, but it's too fast. The edge of the card slices the side of his face as it goes by, lodging itself into the wall behind him.

_'W-What?!'_

Blood trickles down his cheek as a breath stills in his chest. Calloused fingers deftly reach up to ghost along the torn skin in disbelief. How can a flimsy plastic card shoot through the air _and_ dig into the hard surface of the cell wall? He would need tools just to break through the surface, but this card's sticking straight out of it, like a knife in a cake.

_'What the fuck... This bitch is trying to take my damn head off...'_

If he didn't move… _Shit_. His head could've been in half or had a damn keycard embedded into it. This wicked woman attempted to kill him, not that he has any room to talk. However, as he said before, the facts _don't_ matter.

Now, he's angry… Pleasantly surprised, yet still _angry_. This woman is dangerous, but so is he. How is she able to throw it like that with only a small amount of leeway her arm has outside of the glass. It shouldn't be possible, even for someone having the entire hallway to themselves.

_'Like a ninja star...'_

So, he did get under her skin. This is absolutely _thrilling_. Joker can't stop now, he needs more. To see the pinkette really lose her bearings is the goal and he always gets what wants, sooner or later. Today's _his_ day.

"I should've just let you rot or the guards beat you to death. How despicable... You're right... We don't have _anything_ in common. I don't have to go that low to get a rise out of someone and try to hurt them. That's exactly why you'll always be alone because you feel the need to hurt everything that gets too close to you. Pathetic man..." The bite in her words only riles him up further. What the hell gives her the right to say that? What does she know about him? That jezebel is getting too big-headed and arrogant, constantly assuming to know everything all the time.

"The only one who's _pathetic_ here is you, dollface. Letting someone betray you, not finishing them off after they threw you away like garbage to Gordon. Is that what you are, witch? _Garbage_ that everyone recycles? The world, _Sasski cone_, the guards, and me? You just don't take a hint, do you? Stupid woman..." His lips curl into a sneer at the horrified look on her face when he says that man's name. Even if she brings up Jeanie now, it won't matter. That whore's _long_ gone.

"Being so _pathetic_ that you still want a man that got rid of you? _Didn't want you?_ I hear you talk in your sleep. Fucking disgusting! You're not a "Queen", just another foolish woman that refuses to accept reality." Those green eyes are wide and her fists are shaking at the poison dripping from his tongue. It's meant to be nasty and mean, to push her towards the edge. Sometimes, the truth hurts and so does 'love'.

_'That's it_...'

That's the look he wanted. Anger, rage, all the things he knew were right below the surface that she didn't want to acknowledge. Everyone has it in them and it takes pressing the right buttons to draw it out. This is underhanded, but that doesn't matter. He's not opposed to doing something of that nature to get what he desires.

"Say something. C'mon, _witch_... Tell me I'm wrong-"

The bulletproof glass shatters before he can even finish his sentence. Alarms start blaring throughout the hall and boots start pounding their way closer from both sides of the block.

Just barely able to leap off the bed, Joker drops to the floor when the pinkette punches through the door keeping her contained. Those tiny fists are blazing green, enveloped in the glow he's become familiar with.

"Sakura! _Stop!"_ Harold screams, rushing down the hall with the other guards. Of course, he's one of the first that comes running. Can't have his precious master getting in trouble, right? Everyone knows what happens to the inmates that act up in D-block… He probably hates the idea of that and thinks he can put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.

_Too late…_

Joker's heart is giving out from watching her, unable to look at anything else. The cell walls melt into globs of gray and black, the voices are nothing more than buzzing in the background. Everything works in slow motion, like time itself debates on standing still or moving closer to his last moment.

Gliding over the broken shards on the floor, her bare feet crush them into oblivion as she stomps out of her cell. The pinkette's green eyes are only focused on _him_. No one and nothing can get in the way of the sharp wire that trails between their gazes, connecting the two. The look in them causes his blood rush and churn, ready to burst through their vessels at any moment. Sakura's eyes… Dark emerald in appearance and blazing with hatred, there isn't a hint of the benevolence they showed him before. Her delicate face morphs into something far more sinister than he's ever seen as those pink lips curl up into a snarl, baring her fangs.

That rage and unbridled anger... The face of an angel and will of a demon... Her murderous intent that's practically choking him from the hall...

She looks so _beautiful_...

_'I'm dead... Hahaha!'_

With each step closer, his heart races faster. This is finally it. She has no more patience for his games. He pulled the wrong lever. It wasn't supposed to be this woman… No, it's the Bat who was meant to take his life. That's been the plan all along, but just like life... things can be hilariously _unpredictable_.

The guards haul ass down the hall, trying to get close enough to stop her. One buffoon tries to grab her arm, only to get punched into the wall, leaving a small crater. He crumples to the floor in a large heap.

"Sakura, please! Don't do this!" It's like she can't hear the guards screaming. Cocking her fist back, she smashes the glass doors of his cell. It shatters too easily and glass flies everywhere, including at him on the floor, completely in awe. Those doors are meant to take gunfire, yet this woman's hands went through them like tissue.

Even if he's killed, at least he had the last laugh... The pinkette snapped and it's _all_ because of him. That makes it all worth it in the end. It's been a miserable, but exciting existence up until this point. Let's see what kind of chaos he can brew up in hell.

_'Heh!'_

Another guard is sent sailing down the hall with a scream and loud bang, while the other attempt to lunge at her. Do they really think they can subdue such a violent force? Hands grab at her jumpsuit, pulling and yanking roughly.

Joker knows if she wants to, Sakura can lay them out in seconds. Why is she letting them get in the way, instead of just killing them all? The anger is there and so is the strength. If he possessed that ridiculous power, everyone would already be dead.

The pinkette trembles, those sharp emeralds wide and the veins pulsing around her face. Her breathing's heavy and the men around them scream, trying to get in between them. There it is... The blinding anger and betrayal in those eyes he desired to see. Did she think he won't hurt her? Or because she has the strength to beat him into a bloody pulp, that it might stop him from trying to get under her skin?

"HAHAHAHAWOO! _Hoo boy!_ HAHAHA!" Manic laughter fills the cell and runs out into the hall, bouncing off everything in D-Block at his victory and her loss. There's no other way about it.

Sakura grimaces at the raucous noise, stopping a few steps away from him. She seems distracted and to the Joker's anger, someone other than him takes advantage of it. Harold comes up from behind with a strange-looking baton he's never seen before. The clown _almost_ warns the witch about it, so they can continue this little dance of death, but it's too late. Reaching over one of the guards, the buffoon jabs her in the neck with it.

In only seconds, her body seizes up and falls to the floor, under the weight of the guards trying to hold her down. The green glow around the pinkette's hands dissipates, going back to their natural pale hue. Spasms rack her small body and she gasps for breath, convulsing as the men push themselves off of her with a relieved sigh and curses. After seeing what happened to a few of the men, they were probably afraid of ending up the same way.

Joker keeps laughing, grabbing the front of his jumpsuit in his fit of hysteria. This is amazing! His chest shakes, rumbling beneath the fingers tapping against his sternum. Sitting back on his haunches with shards all around them, he looks down at the Sakura with a sneer.

"Oh, how the _mighty_ have fallen! HAHAHA!" It's worth every second, even the ones he thought would be his last. The Queen's face down in glass with guards restraining her to make sure no one else gets hurt. The witch's limbs tremble involuntarily with spasms running from head to toe.

Shifting her head to the side, those pink lips part with sharp breaths as one of the guards pin her to the floor by digging his knee into her back. Dark eyes watch her struggling for air, knowing the weight and pressure on her lungs must be too much. For a moment, he debates shoving the man off or punching him. If she dies from asphyxiation, the fun comes to an abrupt stop. He settles for waiting until her face starts turning blue, so no one gets the wrong idea. The clown's not a gentleman or 'hero' and wants to make that perfectly clear to the little hussy.

Derek runs into the cell, clutching the familiar gloves she was wearing barely two weeks ago. Looks like she'll be stuck in those bad boys for a long time, now. No more using that strange ability to screw with him or his mind.

"Goddammit, Sakura! Why the hell did you have to do this?!" Harold's yelling as he stood by with a devastated look on his face. "I fucking knew it! I should've had you guys moved before!"

Joker laughs harder, enjoying how the dark-haired man grinds his teeth and glares at him. Yep, his little girlfriend is screwed now. Whatever that baton is must disrupt her strange powers or hold them back, just like the gloves. If they something prepared for incidents with her, that must mean it's happened before.

Two guards get on both sides of her, stepping on her forearms with their boots to pin them down. Another starts forcing her hands into the gloves, trying to shove her limp fingers through the strange restraints.

Dark eyes light up at the sight of how pathetic the "Queen" looks now. This is exactly how he wanted to see her. Right off that high horse and writhing on the floor, while every ounce of control is ripped away from those dainty, little hands. All the power she's wielded up to this point is being siphoned out and her reign has ended.

_'Sakura can't do shit now! Hah! Now, she won't have any more influence over the guards, her situation, or… me.'_

Is she afraid? Probably not, but she will. Now the only thing he needed to be cautious of is gone. This is what she deserves for screwing with someone like him... For underestimating and humiliating him, time and time again. The witch isn't laughing or smiling anymore... All thanks to him and his ability to play mind games, her favorite pastime. They're _not_ friends and this should make that abundantly clear. He and Sakura aren't anything, other than two maniacs stuck across the hall from each other. It's a lesson she needs to learn the _hard_ way and he's kind enough to teach her that.

Staring down at her with mirth dancing in his eyes, Joker feels wonderfully triumphant. This is the first time in a while that he's had such a spectacular victory that didn't involve him having to lift a finger. All he did was let a few sentences spill from his ruined lips and her temper took care of the rest.

Sakura shifts to lean her chin against the cold floor, ignoring the glass littered across the surface. The clown's brows furrow when she gazes up at him. The rage is gone and her anger slowly waning down as those green eyes bear into him. Another laugh rips through his throat, enjoying the scene he's created. It might've been more than he imagined, but is just as satisfying.

"I... hate... you. I hate...you..." Joker freezes when he hears the words coming from her mouth in a mumble, just barely above the glass she's being pushed into. Instead of the wide-eyed burning expression from only moments ago, they're heavy and weary, not lining up with what she's saying.

**_"I hate you."_** He wants to laugh louder, to shove this in her face and watch her crumble to pieces. To jeer and taunt even more, while the guards roughly handle the small woman pinned to the floor. Even if one of them wasn't holding a taser in his direction so he won't move, it doesn't matter. Right now, he could smack her across the face, pull at the wild pink locks strewn in every direction and there's nothing she can do about it.

Instead, he stays in his crouching position and watches the emotions filter across those green orbs. He recognizes that look but has never seen it on her. Pain... hurt... _betrayal_. Is it for him? Or for the man whose name set everything in motion?

_'No. It's for me, not that stupid bastard, what's-his-name. I'm the one that did this to her. No one else...'_

Something causes the witch to choke out when the guards finish putting the gloves on, wrenching those skinny arms behind her back and slapping on pair of cuffs. The man kneeling into her back moves when a nurse rushes in and leans down next to her. This one's a man he hasn't seen before either, not any of the times he's been taken down to that damn hall for shock treatment. Maybe, they're new...

A syringe is whipped out and the nurse presses the plunger down to make sure there's no extra air in it as some of the blue-tinted liquid squirts over his gloved hand. Without hesitating, it's shoved into the pinkette's neck and she hisses but doesn't try fighting back.

Finally, she looks away from the clown when her body becomes limp after a few moments, letting her head lull to the side. The harsh breaths slow down as her eyes darted back and forth.

To the clown's shocked-horror, he notices her eyes watering. Whether it's from what happened or the medication has some sort of effect, he's not sure. A tear ran down from the corner of her duct, trailing down the pale skin along her cheek.

_'What?'_

After watching her from afar and up close on occasion, he never imagined seeing the witch shed a tear. Just the idea seems inconceivable, let alone witnessing it.

Before the guard has a chance to shoot the taser, Joker shoots his hand out, snagging the stray tear with his thumb.

"Hey! What are you doing, moron?! Don't let him get near her!" As the guard bounds towards him, he sticks the thumb into his mouth, relishing the saltiness against his tongue. This is his victory, after all. Shouldn't he have a trophy to go along with it?

**"HAHAHAHA!"** A cackle ripples through him as the guard fires the taser off, sending shock waves that jolt his body. This isn't anything! He's experienced far worse in Jerry's room.

Dropping to the floor in a fit of laughter, the guards move in to restrain him. The hands grabbing at him don't matter, neither do the curses and spitting. They can do whatever they want right now. He doesn't fight back, too engrossed at the moment to care.

Two men pull Sakura up off the floor by her biceps, picking her limp body up easily as a gurney's pushed through what would've been the doorway.

Lifting his face off the floor, he grins maliciously and watches them strap her in. The cuffs are taken off and replaced with a straight jacket. Now she can feel what it's like, after stopping the guards from taking his off before.

In moments, the pinkette's carted off, wheels running over the glass scattered all over the hall. This couldn't have gone any better. The witch can kiss any chance of getting transferred goodbye, after this incident. She'll be locked away, but without those weapons to save her. At least he has a way of getting out, but it's not the right time just yet. The clown wants to make her suffer more for doing this to him, for messing with his head. Now she's really screwed and revealed more than she probably ever anticipated and he's eating it up.

Joker won, he got the "Queen" to lose her shit and even shed a tear in her misery. She showed him the anger and rage he wanted to see in those green eyes so badly. To know she's truly alone and can't trust another soul. That human emotions are useless and a person can only depend on themselves, without trusting another soul. He trudged up things she's been running from and refuses to acknowledge while taking away the weapons that are the only protection she has against him... It's a glorious day indeed...

So...

Why doesn't he feel better?


	14. For Keeps

"Thursday, December 7th 20XX. Time is 11:00 AM. Dr. Harleen Quinzel beginning session with Patient 0801. The Joker."

The clown stares at the wall behind the blonde, just barely noticing the way she shifts in her seat from the corner of his eye. An experimental cough leaves her throat, and she covers her mouth, but he doesn't pay it any mind.

"How are you doing today, Mr. J?" Always starting on the same foot with a slight variation of the same goddamn question. Maybe on a different day, Joker might've chuckled at her predictability, but he just doesn't feel like it right now...

His head lulls from one side to the other, letting the dirty-blond waves dance along his broad shoulders always clothed in ugly orange. An eye twitches at throbbing sensation running through temples, curtesy of ol' Jerry and their "session" the day before. Boy, he really enjoys electroconvulsive therapy.

A little _too_ much...

There's no doubt it'll continue until the good doctor's satisfied there isn't even a _speck_ of the mad clown left in this body. 'Conform and obey.' _'Do as your told.'_ 'Follow the rules and regulations.' _'Show progress and hope someday, you can become a contributing member of society.'_ 'Know your place in this world...' Always the same bullshit spun differently by fools that can't even see what they truly are. The doctor's an _Arkham_, there's no doubt about it. He's starting to follow in the same steps as Amadeus and doesn't even realize it.

These people always believe their cause is just and the road they take to get to their destination is inconsequential, as long as they arrive. This asylum's nothing more than a perverse tool to create a controlled environment where the head is a God-like entity, deciding the fates of others and enforcing their rules and beliefs on the patients and staff.

_'Heh. Just like his shitty uncle and almost just as mad, too.'_

"Mr. J?" Harley's saying something, trying to get him to talk. That's the whole point of him being here with her, right? It doesn't matter, not with the headache that's making his skull throb.

"You don't look so good... Do you want me to call in a nurse? Have them check you out?" She's worried about him and is making that _abundantly_ clear. The clown can't stand sympathy or any of that bullshit and definitely doesn't want to see another fucking nurse. Not unless they don't mind having their nose or a finger bitten off.

_'I'll do it too.'_

"Knock it off, Har. I'm _fine_. You know they make those schmucks check me out after I'm done with Jerry..." He's getting used to their machines and is building up a tolerance, just like when they first started doing it back in the day.

There's no other choice, anyway. No one's there to take the brunt from his body with that green glow coming from those dainty little hands. It's not like he was expecting any reprieve from the start. Pain's a part of everyday life from the very beginning and _boy_, has he built up quite a tolerance... Even thrives off it when there's enough to make him _feel_ it.

Pain means he's still _alive_.

"Okay... Anyway, how are you feeling? I heard about what happened the other night. At least you're safe and your cell's been fixed. That's wonderful news. It's not very often the asylum has to replace that glass. I think it's the first occasion since they were installed..."

Joker doesn't want to talk about it. He had to spend the last day in J-block until the door was replaced. The staff was quick about it, not wanting the other inmates to get any foolish ideas. It's not like they can break through the bulletproof glass themselves.

Not like _her_...

At least in the other blocks, there's some form of entertainment to keep his mind from wandering into that gray area. No one's alone with guards walking by periodically and the other cells are close, so there's usually someone to look at or taunt.

J-Block is solitary confinement. Just a tiny, little cell with a metal door and a slot for the guards to look into. No see-through doors to watch anyone, no noises coming in or out to distract him. The control pad's outside, but there aren't any holes to stick his arm through, even with a keycard.

There's far more distance between each cell, so the inmates don't know who or _if_ anyone's even around. There's no way of communicating shit unless the guard opens the tiny slot to check on him and even then, it's slammed shut before a word can come out. As long as the patient's still breathing, they couldn't care less.

Even if someone's banging their head against the wall, the men in uniform can't be bothered and won't deal with any inconveniences, until it becomes too annoying... That's when the nightstick comes out. If the inmates want to knock some sense into themselves, the guards are more than willing to do it for them.

J-Block's the same as it was before the upgrades and one of the few halls in the building that's exactly the way the clown remembers it from the last few times he's been locked up. The funding hasn't touched that part of the asylum yet. _Lucky him_...

There's no secret _why_ they held him there. No doubt Harold suggested it, after what happened to his _precious_ little girlfriend. Beatings to the head and cursing his very existence to and from the sessions with the doctors isn't enough punishment as far as the buffoon's concerned.

Nope...

Not that it matters. He's spent months in solitary before, so that's not a big deal. Do they honestly think a few smacks to the head will bother someone that's had their face slit open and laughs with electrodes pressed against his temples? A person who antagonizes the staff and revels in their feeble attempts to physically restrain and submit him?

_Nope_...

They brought him back to the old cell last night. It felt good not to see that woman sitting across the hall anymore. At least she's still in the building, right? There's no chance of a transfer now. Not after what she did... Smashing through the bulletproof glass and destroying the barrier between them. Disregarding the staff's screams and threats in her anger. Killing two guards just to get to him...

_'How flattering.'_

Now that she's out of the way, there's nothing to distract him from doing what he wants. If this happened sooner, maybe things might have been prevented or entirely stopped in its tracks.

The dreams... The annoyance... Unwanted _feelings_...

"Mr. J?" Rolling his head along his stiff shoulders, Joker doesn't feel like doing this right now. Even if this woman can be useful, the level of patience he's always prided himself on is wearing _thin_. Every day, he's becoming more restless, wanting to say screw it all and just break himself out already. It wasn't supposed to drag on _this_ long... Why is he even waiting?

"Yes, _pumpkin?"_ The clown's teeth clenched tightly with the agitation rolling through him. The urge to act is overwhelming, to get some of this aggression out. Strangling the blonde might be a pleasant start.

"How are you holding up after what happened? It shocked me when I heard... Really didn't expect Sakura to do something like that." The doctor purses her lips, pressing the tip of her pen against them. Anymore, Harley's always staring at him curiously... _longingly_. He doesn't like that shit.

Perhaps he was _too_ correct in his assessment of her and said the right things far _too_ often. She always wants to check-up on him, talk about anything and everything, even when their scheduled appointments are supposed to be over. They don't end until the guards come in to escort him out. Those bastards have no issue leaving him in here, while they stood in the hall.

Hearing the pinkette's name make his ears perk up a bit. Aside from Harold's cursing and accusations, he didn't hear much in J-Block about what happened to her. Perhaps strangulation can wait for now...

"Oh, I'm doing just _peachy_. Can't ya tell?" Leaning forward in the chair and making the chains rattle, he pumps his brows up at Harley. "I was just as, ah, _shocked_. Who woulda thought there was someone out there wantin' to kill me?" The look on her face tells him she's not buying it at all. Despite her unusual favoritism towards him, she still understands what _kind_ of man he is.

"I'm sure you are... There haven't been any 'incidents' with her for some time. Why would she attack you so suddenly? I've been bouncing around scenarios in my head..."

_'I'm sure there's more than that bouncing around in that little, blonde head.'_

Sighing, she folds her hands together with the pen still laced between those thin fingers, giving him a hard look. The wheels are spinning in those clear-blue eyes as she jumps from one thought to the next, trying to piece together the facts to hypothesize what may have transpired.

"...You didn't provoke her, by chance. Did you, Mr. J?" Right on the money. That's exactly what he did, but there's no way he'll admit to it.

"_Me?_ I would never!" If he could point to himself in exaggerated surprise, he would've. The straight jacket is always getting in the way of him expressing his love for theatrics. It just isn't the same.

"Mhmm... _Of course_." Pursing her lips together, she narrows in on him when he tosses her a toothy grin. "You know... Sakura was very close to getting transferred to a different facility. It's a shame. However, no matter what happened, she has no right trying to put a finger on you."

"So, what's gonna happen now, Doc?" He doesn't want to directly inquire about _that_ woman, but the curious side of him can't help itself.

"You will continue with your treatment plan, as directed by Dr. Arkham and myself. Nothing will change on your end until we see more progress from you. It's not like you'll be punished for the actions of another patient." Even if it's only for a second, the clown notices the smug grin on the blonde's face. Is she pleased about all this?

"_Tch_." This woman knew _exactly_ what he meant. Joker wasn't talking about himself, he wanted to ask about Sakura. She's just checking if he'll push the issue. There's no doubt that she has an idea about what happened, but doesn't care about the truth, because it involves _him_.

Harley's becoming quite a jealous woman with him. He can see it in the way she tries to protect him and the look in her eyes whenever he mentions the pinkette. It doesn't seem to matter to her who did what, as long as he doesn't get into trouble or hurt. She's so willing to protect one patient and say screw the other.

_'Stupid woman...'_

* * *

"Hmm..."

Dark eyes stare across the hall at the empty cell. Who would've thought such a small woman could break down bulletproof glass so easily? What amazing strength...

Joker wanted to see her snap... To finally witness Sakura angry and hysterical beyond all reasoning, but didn't imagine it would go this far. It was _exciting_!

_'She really lost her shit...'_

"HAHAHAHA!" Sitting on his bed, he flips the cards Harley gave him over. When there's not much to do, a game of Solitaire is a suitable way to pass the time.

But...

It's quiet again...

_'It's better this way...'_

He doesn't need some woman messing with his head again. There are too many things he's been putting off from allowing himself to be distracted. And for what?

Even though she's gone, the dreams haven't stopped. They're only becoming worse and all the medication Harley's pumping him with isn't helping. It causes him to sleep, and that's when he's ensnared. These damn things are more vivid and violent, always ending with one of them covered in blood, usually himself. Is it too late? Even though she's not physically here, it feels like she never really left when he closes his eyes.

_'Gonna have to get Harley to give me some prazosin. Fuck...'_

Flipping over another card, his jaw clenches in annoyance. It's _too_ quiet. Why aren't the other inmates yelling obscenities or screaming out at random? Anything that can make him laugh...

This is like the night he had everyone medicated... The first time he tried killing Sakura, and she paralyzed him. Why didn't she just end it there? It would have saved her from all this trouble.

Looking up from his game, Joker glances towards the hall again. At least they already fixed the door to her cell. Are they going to bring her back or keep her elsewhere? The only other place she could've gone is J-block in solitary confinement. That's usually where they keep the real crazies from D-block that try to hurt themselves or others.

His jaw shifts remembering the months he spent in there, after the first time being dragged into Arkham, back when Amadeus was still head. It was one of many occasions the clown was wandering through the halls and ran into an orderly. As soon as they noticed the scars and orange jumpsuit, the screaming started... and he ended it. The blood was still damp on his clothes when they tossed him in the small room and threw away the key. If anyone is sane before going in there, they sure as hell don't come out that way...

_'Is she going to be different when they let her out? How long will they keep her in there?'_

Shaking his head, the clown tries to concentrate on the game at hand. How many times has he done this? Playing the same thing, repeatedly. It's getting unbearably repetitive.

_'She'll be fine. If anyone's a tough cookie, it's her. They'll have to do more than that to make her crumble...'_

Growling out, Joker rubs his temples in annoyance. The urge to break something is very tempting. _Anything_. That witch is still a bother, even when she's not here. This is what _he_ wanted, right? To get rid of that woman and her foolishness? She's the one that laughed in his face the first day the guards brought him in. Always taunting and getting on his nerves. Laughing and mocking his scars...

Furrowing his brows, he can almost feel the pinkette's thin fingers tracing the dark marks on his face. They're so soft against his cracked, rough skin. Even if the witch made a gesture towards them, she never said anything to try shaming him for it. Everyone else always has a disgusted expression when they see his mouth, especially when it's covered in greasepaint.

_'Wonder what kind of face she'd make seeing that...'_

"Heheh..." Would she be surprised? He knows she won't be scared like most people are. That's the only emotion he hasn't seen on her yet, even in the dreams. Gorillas aren't easy to frighten, after all.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Joker's feeling restless _again_. Being cooped up in this tiny cell with less that shit to do is _boring _and the clown doesn't play that game. He has a keycard, right? So, it won't hurt to have a little fun...

"Dinner time, scumbag." Glancing up, Derek's walking towards his cell with a tray in hand. Right when he gets near the glass, the guard pretends to trip, spilling the food onto the floor. A hand raises to his mouth in mock surprise, pretending to be horrified at what he's just done. Like he can't see that shit-eating grin the moron's trying to hide for the camera.

"Shit! Clumsy me... Can't _believe_ I just did that. I'll have to send someone to clean this up. Sorry, clown boy. Only one plate per cell. Hospital rules..." The guard laughs and narrows his eyes at him. He strides off, knowing damn well the clown won't be able to get anything to eat until breakfast.

Even then...

That's the fourth time in the last two days this shit has happened. Between Derek, Harold, and Jerry, they seem determined to try punishing him any way they can that doesn't involve getting _too_ close. Little do they know, he doesn't eat much outside of the asylum anyway, so it doesn't matter. It's the intent that pisses him off more than anything.

**_"I don't have to go that low to get a rise out of someone and try to hurt them."_**

Running a hand through his messy waves, he grimaces from remembering that woman's words. It might've been a little underhanded to do that, but what does she expect? Just because she healed him a few times, now they have some truce or something? That he's the type of man to show gratitude? Doesn't she realize what he is?

_'Fuck.'_

That green glow _is_ useful... It makes the shock therapy a lot easier to deal with at night when she comes to heal him. His body is always in tip-top shape afterward. The Bat would be screwed if he possessed that ability when they had their little fun together. If he breaks something, it can be mended in seconds, instead of putting it back in place and waiting for it to happen naturally. The pain's not an issue, but the injuries limit what his body can do to an extent.

**_"I haven't always been able to do this..."_**

**_"_****_I'm more familiar with pain than you can probably ever imagine. Don't take my appearance or ability as a representation of the life I've lived." _**

"Goddammit!" Why the hell can't he get that _sickly sweet_ voice out of his head? Sakura's gone already, so why won't she just leave him alone now? That woman's God-knows-where and doing who-knows-what with whatever new boy-toy she probably acquired upstairs.

_'Worse than Freddy Kruger...'_

It kills him to even think it, but he _kind of_ enjoys the sensation of that warm green glow that comes from her hands. Once he got a taste of it, game over. None of that matters, anymore. If she comes around, the guards shoved those gloves back on, so he won't feel that heat radiating from her fingertips for a while.

"She's useless now..." Even as the words spill out, he doesn't believe them. Sakura's not useless, even if she is a little _misguided_ in what catches her interests. Out of the other inmates he taunts on the way to and from his sessions, the pinkette's the only one that can take it and throw it right back. She's cunning and crafty, not like any of the other women he's met before.

**_"No matter how hard I try, my power can never heal this pain. You know _****exactly_ what I mean… I _know_ you do."_**

A growl tears through his throat, feeling the vein in his forehead starting to throb. What does she know? Letting someone turn her over to Gordon and not finishing him off first... Does 'what's-his-face' mean that much to her, that she couldn't do it? He didn't hesitate with Jeanie and she was the first and last person he foolishly allowed to get close to him. If the witch lets someone in, that's practically inviting them to tear her apart.

**_"We know the reality of this world and are in turn, are rejected by it. Out of all the people I've met since I came here, you're the only one that can honestly understand me and vice versa. No matter how hard it seems to believe, you know that I _**_**do**_**_ get it. That's why you try to push me away because it angers you._**

Maybe it angers him she knows too much. That perhaps in some crazy way... she gets it. Every time he tries explaining how screwed-up society is with all its rules and limitations, people look at him like he's completely mental. Sakura always sits and listens, chiming in here and there with her two-cents. No one really understands his ramblings, but she always seems interested in his opinion and what he thinks.

Thinking about the other day, his dirty nails dig into the pant leg of his jumpsuit. Perhaps... he should have waited until the complete file was in his hands. It's not like him to move forward, without having all the information first. Always planning things so carefully and taking minor details into account... When did he act without thinking things through?

_'She makes me like this... It's frustrating...'_

Joker jumped the gun. If he truly wants her to suffer, it would have been better to do it differently, instead of some half-assed attempt like the first time he tried killing her.

_'Why do I want her to suffer?'_

Aside from being antagonistic and mocking him, she doesn't do that much. Yeah, it's fucking annoying and gets under his skin sometimes, but she hasn't pulled the same crap recently. If anything, the witch has been helpful by healing and keeping him company…

**_"That's exactly why you'll always be alone because you feel the need to hurt anyone and anything that gets too close to you. Pathetic man..."_**

"_Tch_..." Running his fingers along the marred skin of his mouth, the clown feels angrier than he has in the last few weeks. She thinks he's pathetic? _Him?_ If he wasn't so pissed, he might have laughed. At least that'll make the silence more bearable...

Joker _hates_ the quiet. That's one of many reasons he likes fire and explosions so much. At least a nice flame burns and crackles, until it goes out and once it does, he can just start it up again.

**_"I hate you."_**

Despite the bitter words, it didn't reach her eyes. Were those daggers directed at him or was the pinkette seeing someone else when she was looking at him from the floor? Maybe that Saski person or 'whatever-the-fuck's-his-name'?

Sakura doesn't hate him. No way... If that's the case, she would have hit him the way she did those guards and sent him flying. There were plenty of opportunities and he saw how fast she can move. That she hesitated means _something_, right? When he goes in for a kill, there's no hesitation to do it and if there is, it's only to decide on the method of ending it.

Flipping the next card over, he grimaces from seeing which one it is. Dark eyes roam over the image as he holds it up under the dim light.

_The Queen of Hearts_...

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Life really is hilarious with its randomness and unpredictability...

**_"Ya know... Turns out you really are, ah, insane... _**_**I like that**_**_."_**

* * *

"Scarecrow... Scarecrow..."

Joker frowns from hearing that old kooks voice coming from down the hall. Yeah, it has been too quiet most of the day, but that's not the noises he was hoping for... even if it is funny.

Lying in bed, it's already the middle of the night. Most of the mumbling and yelling died down a few hours after dinner time, not that he had any thanks to that redheaded bastard. It doesn't matter... There are other things he has planned for tonight.

He's waiting... It's only a matter of patience for _that_ person to finally show up to give him a good time. Hearing the boots coming down the hall, he knows that pattern from listening to it so many times. Lying ramrod-straight, his lips slightly hang open as he stares up at the ceiling.

The footsteps stop outside of his cell, just as expected. They _always_ take the chance to curse and jeer at him. It's too irresistible of a prospect for them, especially considering the situation. After the other night, the amount of foreplay with the guards increased seven-fold.

_'So predictable.'_

"Hey, assclown..." Here we go, can't come up with something better than that? It's getting stale. "What's with you now, freak? J-block mess you up that bad? Haha!"

Gritting his teeth, the clown tries to resist the urge to laugh. The guard taps his nightstick against the glass, trying to get a reaction from him, but that won't happen. Not with him having another goal in mind at the moment.

"Stop messing around, jerkoff! I know you hear me. Your goddamn eyes are open!" Harold yells out, smacking the glass again. The buffoon hates being ignored and always expects the patients to give him _something_.

"Scarred-up _freak_... What, did you mess with the wrong person again? What's with you?" Joker knows _exactly_ what he's referring to. That night Sakura paralyzed him... He limply lays the way she positioned him to recreate the same scene as before, knowing the guard can't resist a chance to punish him again.

"Jer, come and look at this!" The newbie walked by multiple times in the last few hours, while the clown stayed in the same position. From the way he peers into each cell, there's no doubt he will notice the lack of animation from the infamously antagonistic inmate.

_'This asylum's too small for two Jerrys. One of 'em's got to go. I've been calling the good doctor 'Jerry' for years, so the choice is obvious.'_

"Should we get a nurse? It might be like the last time... I don't want Harleen getting Dr. Arkham involved again. I can still hear that shrieky voice ringing in my ears..." The blonde gets pretty riled up about her pets, specifically one in particular. Seems she has a thing for wanting to tinker with the minds of mass-murderers and criminals.

"It is, isn't it? I thought Sakura did that, but I guess not..." Hearing the name coming from Harold's mouth, it takes all the patience in the world not to grimace.

"Screw that." A beep from the control box rings into the cell and he has to _resist_ the urge to grin. If he makes a move, they'll scurry off like a bunch of mice and he's the big, bad cat. Reacting that way is a smart idea because he _will_ chew them up, without spitting them out. What can he say? He likes playing with his food and making a mess. Always has and that'll never change.

The footsteps grow louder as the guards stroll into the small space and come closer towards the bed. The buffoon is so disgustingly predictable that it's sad. Always taking the chance to try doing something to him, without thinking of the consequences. What, does he think the clown will never get out? That he'll be restrained for the rest of his life or die in captivity? This moron knows nothing or he'd be shitting himself whenever their eyes met.

"Stupid clown... You always end up digging your own hole, huh?" A smirk spreads across the man's face when he pokes Joker in the side, seeing if he'll get a reaction. Nothing moves an inch as he prods around in different spots, trying to keep a safe distance. The ribs, bicep, thigh, toes… He doesn't like it when people touch his feet unless _he's_ kicking the crap out of _them_.

"Harold... I don't think this is a good idea." Well, this proves _one_ of them has a working brain cell between the two. No one in their right mind would willingly crawl into the lion's den, especially when knowing the beast is hungry.

"Shaddup, Jer. Why are you always tryin' to be a buzzkill? Besides, it's this freak's fault Sakura's in J-block now." The guard's face twists in anger as he raises the nightstick and brings it down hard against the clown's ribs.

Strike **one**...

"Yeah, but wasn't she the one who broke the doors?" How naïve… Why would a goody-two-shoes bust through the bulletproof glass on a whim with no apparent intentions of trying to escape?

"You know she wouldn't have done that on her own. This asshole pissed her off. I _know_ it. She was in a pleasant mood before all that." Another smack, but to the head this time. Harold seems confident from having someone else there with him, in case anything happens. Must've been the reason he didn't come in earlier.

Strike **two**...

"Right, douchebag? This is all _your_ fault. I'll make everyday hell for you for now on and you'll wish they kept your rotten ass in Blackgate." Pulling his arm back, he hits the clown against his chest with no remorse.

Strike **three**...

"Yer out!" Grabbing the nightstick, Joker lunges up off the bed and wraps his arm around Harold's neck in a vice-hold, before he can react. Yanking the baton out of the buffoon's hand, he swings it hard against Jerry's skull, taking him by surprise. That's what he gets for not having a tight grip on the weapon. Any moron should at least know that much.

"Ha. Ha. _Ha_. Let's see who's laughing _now_." Jerry stumbles back as the clown smashes him in the head again, disoriented and falling back against the wall. A trickle of blood runs down his face and he looks around wildly in shock, not realizing what just happened.

Harold digs his nails into the arm coiled around his neck in a bruising grip, sputtering out from his oxygen being cut off. Desperate to get out of the hold, he swings his fist against the middle of the jumpsuit, hoping to knock the air out the maniac he was just beating seconds ago.

"At-ta-ta-_ta_. Just re-_lax_, buddy. I'm not tryin' to make a big mess in here." Joker squeezes harder and sucks in his bottom lip, enjoying the sounds coming from the man struggling against him. He barks out a laugh when the guard tries biting into his pectoral, only for the thick orange fabric to block any damage. Who thought this ugly thing might come in handy? Instead of tearing into the rigid muscle, his teeth can barely produce a pinch. Jerking the buffoon across the floor, he notices fake-Jerry trying to push himself from off the floor.

"Would've been easier if ya stayed down, Jer. What a shame..." Harold crumples to the floor in a heap when Joker drops him, gasping and coughing for air. If he thinks the clown will let him gather his bearings, he's sadly mistaken. A bare foot lands on his throat, pushing down hard to keep him in place.

"S-Stop!" Ignoring the plea, Joker grabs the tuft of Jerry's hair to drag him closer. The gnat below starts clawing at his foot, only causing him to become more irritated. As he said before, he doesn't like anyone messing with his feet. The nightstick is quickly dropped to the floor in favor of getting back to the person closest to the top on his to-do list. Grabbing the sides of the guard's head, he grunts and twists hard, relishing in the harsh crack a neck makes from breaking.

_'Like music to my ears.' _

The last thing he needs is this moron screaming and drawing attention from his buddies around the hall. They're busy watching the inmates there and won't come down here without a reason.

"Hahaha!" Jerry falls to the floor with a loud thud, left as a lifeless pile of shit under the clown's gaze. This is exactly what he needed and there's more where that came from. Usually, he likes to play with his food, but time is of the essence and there's still lots to do tonight.

_'Now there's one Jerry left. Good… No need to make things complicated.'_

Dark eyes glance down at the man he's stepping on, thoroughly enjoying fresh complexion the buffoon's sporting. A delightful shade of _red_. It's always been one of his favorite colors, besides the obvious. Unfortunately for him, this isn't over yet and the last few weeks are about to come crashing down on his head. The same way his nightsticks done on the clown's skull every chance that presented itself.

Taking his foot off of Harold's neck, Joker steps back with a grin. The wheezing and sputtering are almost as funny as the spit running down the man's chin. This is what Harleen and those foolish doctors don't understand. He enjoys pain and watching others experience it, savoring every agonizing sound and emotion his actions elicit.

There's no amount of therapy or medication to can change any of that and he wouldn't want it, even if that is possible. This is who he is and always will be. These tendencies and urges didn't develop overnight or from some shitty childhood trauma. That's not how it works. People don't suddenly have a thirst for blood or hurting others because daddy's a drinker and mommy didn't come home. This darkness was bred into him from the get-go, whether it's a gift from the devil or the big man's punishment to mankind. The clown has been aware of his actions and the consequences of them from a young age, knowing exactly what he's doing and why. But guess what? He doesn't give a shit and will do anything he pleases.

"_Hoo boy_... Ya have _no_ idea how long I've wanted to do that." A fit of laughter bubbles up in his chest and threatens to spill out until he notices the buffoon scrambling for the nightstick. What does he think he'll do with that? After just watching his buddy having his neck snapped, does he think that insignificant thing will save him? If he was smart, he'd start yelling to alert the other guards there's a 'crisis', but having a brain that works isn't a requirement for employment in Arkham.

Snatching the weapon from the floor before the guard can reach it, Joker's grin widens from watching the slight glimmer of hope fading from his next victim's face. He loves the expression people make when they believe there's a chance and it's suddenly ripped away. Harold barely gets a word out when the nightstick crashes against his ribs.

_'Heh. Eye for an eye… or more like rib for a rib.'_

"Aargh!"

"Sh. Shh. _Shh!_ Come on, Harry! Don't be a wuss now. You can dish it out, but aren't very good at takin' it, hmm?" Joker grins as the buffoon curls up on the floor, holding on to his side and grimacing in pain. It's not so much fun being on the receiving end of the weapon's affections, huh? Well, at least for _this_ guy. Pulling his arm back, he swings harder this time, hoping to crack a few ribs. Harold can have a small taste of what it feels like being beaten like a dog with no remorse, the same way he does to the inmates throughout the ward.

"What's wrong, Harry? Ya didn't see this coming? Tsk, tsk... Seems ya forgot who you're 'spose to be watchin'." Harold groans as the clown crouch down next to him. "As much as I'd _love_ to spend the night showing you my appreciation for all your hard work, I'm a busy man. Got a, ah, hot _date_ tonight with a certain pink-haired witch."

"W-What are you... talking about?" A large hand lashes out to grab the back of his inky hair, almost tearing it from the roots when he's yanked him up. Being gentle isn't the Joker's forte unless it comes to making pipe bombs or other kinds of explosives. Unfortunately for the guard, he's none of the above.

"Which cell is she in? _Hmm?_ Don't wanna crawl into the _wrong_ bed… HAHAHA!" Harold's eyes widen when the words finally register. Yep, that's _exactly_ what he means. Seeing the change in reaction fills Joker with joy at the man's trepidation and outrage from the thought of his little girlfriend having a late-night visitor.

"Fuck you, _freak!"_ The nightstick smashes against his face right when the insult leaves his mouth. A growl coming from the clown above causes him to tremble, knowing how this will end. It was only a matter of time before this happened and he should've known better.

"We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I'm, ah, perfectly fine with either." Smacking his lips, Joker's black eyes turn cold beneath his heavy lids, glaring at the guard with intense hatred. An answer will come out either way, whether the buffoon does it now or in ten minutes. He knows a squealer when he sees one and with the right amount of pain, these guys always end up spilling the beans. "How 'bout I start by pulling those teeth out one by one, then we can move on to your eyes? Didn't wanna make too much of a mess before my big date, but you're not leaving me with much of a choice. Are ya, Harry?"

Aside from strained gasps and groans, the guard says nothing. He gives the clown a hard look, pursing his lips in defiance. That won't last long. If anyone knows how to make a pig squeal, it's _Joker_. Keeping a tight grip on his hair, the nightstick is laid down on the floor and out of reach of the pinkette's boy-toy. Who needs a weapon for a schmuck like this? Fingers are more than enough to get the job done with a little imagination.

"Okay, have it your way... Actually, I think I'll start with your eyes. Ya see, they roam around a little _too_ much for my liking. Looking at things they _shouldn't_..." Harold squirms in desperation when a large hand reaches forward, throwing his own up to shield his face. The clown's lips curl up into a malicious grin from the fear in this moron's eyes. It's an expression he's seen so many times before and knows exactly what it means.

_This guy's about to crack..._

"W-Wait!" When fingers circle his socket and graze his lashes, Harold quickly yells out. Anything is better than what's about to happen, even if it means throwing in the towel to this maniac. Dying in an inmate's cell is not how he imagined going out, especially to a loathsome man he's spent countless hours taunting. "What are you… going to do if I tell you?"

Joker smiles like a Cheshire Cat, narrowing his eyes on the sorry excuse for a guard. Arkham hired a bunch of chumps... Amadeus wouldn't have such pathetic men working in the asylum. Beating the piss out of two was child's play compared to dealing with the guys that used to work here. It took far more finesse and cunning to get through those bastards.

"Doesn't matter, does _i-t?_ You're gonna tell me either way, so why drag this out? At least if ya tell me, ya won't be missing your eyes and teeth... among other things." Patience is running thin while watching the wheels turning in the buffoon's head. His eyes flicker back and forth, contemplating the situation and possibility of getting out of here in one piece. What's more important at the end of the day? The life of an inmate he probably won't see outside of this building or his own? If he can get away, then at least the other guards can be warned and stop this freak before he can reach J-block.

"Hah... Ah... She-She's in cell 07, 'kay?! I told you, so let me go already!" Harold kicks his legs, trying to pull away from the hand on his head. The grip is so tight, there's no way of getting out of it on his own or without ripping something off. A harsh tug on his hair causes him to squeal from the pulsing pain shooting through his skull as his neck's craned back, forcing him to look at the clown's hardened expression. It's his eyes… They're more terrifying than his scar can ever be. Cold, mean, pitch-black glass sitting in his sockets, just waiting for the next violent act their owner will commit to entertain them with.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Joker clenches his jaw and tightens the grip on the guard's head. He smiles and tugs it back further, noting how the fool's muscles lose some of their tension, probably from the foolish idea that revealing information will save his skin. It might save his eyes, but that's about it.

"You little fucking rat!" The wiry muscles in his forearm bunch up as he smashes Harold's against the cement floor, not giving him the chance for a rebuttal. There's nothing that can be said to stop this. It wouldn't have mattered if he never said a word to the clown or didn't take every opportunity to beat him. People are killed for much less, sometimes doing nothing at all.

Blood gushes from the wound on his forehead and running down his face. He's dazed and confused from the impact, barely registering what's happening until his airway is suddenly cut off. Panic sets in from realizing this is about to be over and there's nothing that can be done unless a group of guards just happen to walk by. No one's that lucky, especially him. This freak will kill him without remorse, just like John warned if he kept screwing around. Poking a wild bear really can have consequences, even with a weapon.

Joker clenches his jaw, applying more pressure to his forearm pressed up against the guard's throat. He thought about gouging his eyes out and breaking the bastard's neck after letting him suffer for a while, but this is faster. This is not how he imagined doing it and hoped to drag it out for much longer. Curses are choked out as Harold thrashes under the clown's weight, wasting the precious oxygen left. _Good_. That will only speed this up and be more painful. Might as well get a few more 'freak's in while he has the chance.

"_Shh_... I said you wouldn't be missing a few things, but never said I was gonna let you go, did I? Hahaha!" Pushing down hard, he grits his teeth waiting for the body beneath him to stop moving. There's no getting out of this. That was decided from 'Day One' and the first insult uttered coming out of the transport truck.

"Ah-ah-_ah_. Look at _me!"_ He growls out when the buffoon tries to shift under the hold. "I wanna make sure the last thing you see on your way to hell is a scarred-up _freak!"_

Harold's eyes roll up into his head with the noises and flailing dying down. His red face darkens into a lovely shade of blue from lack of air under the weight on his neck. When he finally stops twitching, the clown cackles and pushes off him.

What a nice little rush... This is what he's been itching for. That's two names to scratch of the to-do list before he leaves this godforsaken place. If only was more of a fight... Such a shame. It's just not the same.

Dark eyes flicker from Harold to Jerry as they lay on the floor, unmoving and no longer breathing. That's how he likes them... It's definitely an improvement.

_'J-Block... Cell 07...'_

* * *

Stalking down the halls of J-Block, Joker straightens the collar on his uniform. A parting gift from dear Harold... After all, he doesn't want to make it _too_ obvious by strolling around in that striking orange jumpsuit all the patients wear. Usually, it never matters, but he doesn't want any unnecessary attention right now.

Poor Jerry had was kicked under the bed, while Harry's comfortably tucked in bed, wearing the clown's favorite threads courtesy of the asylum. One of the other guards might carelessly wander down the hall of D-Block and notice an empty bed, then sound the alarms throughout the building. That will only cut his date short...

"03...05...07..."

No, that just won't do... After debating most of the day, he decided to go. If the witch is going to keep tormenting him even when she's not there, he might as well do the same to her.

_Right?_

The silence is becoming obnoxious and he needs some noise. Someone to talk to that can come up with better insults for him other than _'freak'_. Messing with Falcone and Crane lost its thrill after the first week coming here. The mob boss just repeats the same shit over and over again, screaming and hiding under his bed. The doctor that screwed him up is a pompous asshole who thinks he's better than everyone. He's too bland to elicit any excitement when he doesn't have his fear gas or mask.

_'Bor-ing.'_

Pressing the keycard to the control panel, dark eyes scan both directions as he grabs the handle to the metal door. The guards at the end of the hall are too busy talking to notice his face. As long as there's not an orange jumpsuit insight, they don't seem to care. If one of them took a _good_ look, the scars would've been a dead giveaway. There's no covering up those bad boys.

Quietly opening the door, he glances into the dark room. To think the woman was a couple cells down from his for the last two days before they moved him back to D-block... What the hell were they thinking?

The room is incredibly small with only a thin mattress on the floor in the corner. Unlike the rest of the cells throughout the asylum, these are more designed with punishment in mind.

Sakura's on her back, lying on top of the flimsy blanket the staff provided with a straight jacket pinning her down. This block is always the coldest place in the entire building and the bedding is never enough to keep anyone warm. Hearing how uncomfortable J is has caused _some_ of the inmates to behave better, so they don't end up here. Solitude, absolute silence, and freezing temperatures while locked into a filthy little space. This place is dreadful enough without all of that.

_'Tch...' _

At least Harold would have made sure the blankets covering her, instead of leaving it like this. Inmates debate which block has the most incompetent or brutal guards with J taking the lead most of the time with the latter, but D's a good runner-up. Although… there's a bit of a shortage now.

_'Heheh...'_

Studying the witch from a distance, she doesn't seem to be any worse for wear compared to the other day. The pinkette appears to be sleeping with her eyes closed and hair strewn across the thin pillow.

The corner of his mouth quirks up as he takes a step into the small room. This little venture wasn't entirely planned out, like a lot of the foolish acts he's been doing lately... That doesn't matter. He's used to going with the flow and can adapt to whatever's thrown his way.

How will she react? It's doubtful he'll receive a warm welcome or any appreciation for coming here. There are better things he can do with his time, but she's not the type of woman that cares about any of that.

The heavy door closes and he slides the extra keycard—_the one Sakura tried decapitating him with—_in the way of the strike plate, ensuring he doesn't get locked in here. That's a novice mistake he's never made and always has an escape plan in place depending on what happens. His paranoia has kept him breathing this long and there's no reason to doubt it. Being prepared for every circumstance imaginable allows him to be one step ahead of the enemy.

The room becomes pitch-black when the dim light from the hall disappears, leaving him alone in the dark with a woman that more than likely wants to tear his throat open. The excitement of what might happen thrums through him, causing his heart to race. Will she try to kick him to death? Throw a knee into his gut? Use those strong thighs to crush his larynx?

_'Mmm…' _

Sauntering over towards the mattress, Joker stands there for a moment and shifts his jaw. Why did he bother coming all the way up here, anyway? His tongue snakes out, gently prodding the cracked skin along the sides of his mouth as shallow breaths pour out. The pounding against his chest is worse now that he's finally here...

Flopping down on the side of the bed none too gently, he turns to stare at the spot where he knows she's lying. If the witch hasn't woken up by _now_, color him surprised. It's not like he's been too quiet after getting through the door and purposefully made more noise than necessary to get her up for this. He can be deathly quiet and stealthy when he needs to be, but this isn't one of those moments.

Trying to steady his breathing, his eyes dart back and forth while debating on what to do. Honestly... if he wants to kill her, now is a perfect time. With the gloves suppressing that green magic of hers and a straight jacket pinning those scrawny arms down, the woman is practically defenseless.

A grin tugs at the scarred corners of his mouth. Yes... There's no better time than the present. All he needs to do is wrap his fingers around that pale neck and squeeze, then this will finally be over...

_Right?_

Reaching a hand out slowly, he leans forward and gnaws on the corded scar tissue in his mouth. These damn cells… If only there was some sort of light so he can watch, but it's now or never. Those weapons are immobile and he didn't make the trek up here for nothing.

Fingers graze along the pillow, scooping up a bundle of pink hair and rolling it between his calloused pads. Dark eyes flutter close, letting his other senses take the front seat. Unable to watch, there's no other choice but to rely on scent and touch at this point.

It's just as soft as he remembers, almost like _silk_...

"What the hell do you want?" The voice coming from beneath him sounds drowsy, but still has the bite he expects it to have. Whether she was sleeping or it's from the drugs they deal out like candy in this block, he's not entirely sure. Knowing the pinkette, she might have been expecting him this whole time, no matter what state she's in.

"What, I can't come to see _my_ little bunny?" Joker barks out a laugh, giving the hair in his grasp a little tug to agitate her. After spending the last few weeks in this hell-hole, it's recently become one of his favorite pastimes. Batman aside, this is the only person he enjoys taunting with that doesn't have to result in murder by the end of the night.

"I'm not your_ 'little bunny'_..." He scowls in the dark at her words, feeling the twitch in his eye return. Apparently, she's still is angry with him after all… If he heard that sweet chirping she usually does, then he'd be even more suspicious. There's no way she wouldn't be pissed about the other day.

"Don't be like that. Didn't think you're the type to hold a grudge, dollface... What, didn't ya miss me?" There's no way this woman hasn't at least _thought_ about him once, especially after what he did. A part of the clown hopes it's haunting this witch, the same way it does him.

"You killed him, didn't you?" Sakura's voice is quiet, but she doesn't scoot away or move her head to yank the strands from his hand like he thought she would. Even with the straightjacket on, that won't stop anyone from being able to move their lower body. It restrains only the shoulders and arms against their chest, leaving the legs and feet raring' to go. He was confined to J-block and gurneys multiple times in the past for making use of that tidbit of information. As an Arkham veteran, it's almost a surprise these morons haven't invested in muzzles for patients like him. His teeth and jaw are strong and the staff has learned that the hard way.

"Hahaha... Are you talkin' about your little _boy-toy?"_ Perceptive little witch. Was she peeking from under those long lashes and see the uniform in the doorway?

"He's not my boy-toy. Never was... I can smell him on you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that either you guys were up close and personal or you killed him. I'm leaning towards the latter." The certainty in her voice is clear. If only there was a light in these cells, then he can see her expression. Words can be deceitful, but eyes are the gateway to the soul...

_'She can smell him? What is she, a dog?'_

"What if I did?" Is she going to be angry? Upset? Even so, what can be done restrained like this? He could stomp her to death right now and there isn't much she can do to stop him.

"Figured. It was going to happen either way. _Hahh… _Well, there goes my books..." Dark eyes widen in surprise at the woman's nonchalant attitude towards him killing the guard she had so _tightly_ wrapped around those dainty fingers. Does she truly not care? Or is all of this just another act?

"Heh! You're somethin' else, ya know that? Really are an Ice Queen..."

"Yeah? And you really are an asshole, _ya know that_?" His eye twitches in agitation at the insult and her mocking the way he speaks. Joker's lips curl up into a snarl, debating if he should let her hair go or rip some out as a souvenir.

He missed those smart-ass retorts...

"I've been called worse. If that's the best ya got, I guess I wasted my time coming up here." Letting go of the small bundle, he snatches a handful and lets it spill through his fingers and repeats the motion. It feels good against his rough hand, like water running over a rugged surface.

"Why _did_ you come here? Do you want to get rid of me? Isn't that why you did it or are you here to kill me?" The pinkette chuckles and the noise sends a shiver down his spine. He's not sure why it does, but it still happens either way.

His eyes flicker back and forth at nothing in particular in the darkness, picking through her words and taking them in. Why did he come here? Just to torment the little witch during her imprisonment? To remind her he's still here? To see if what he did had some effect on the "Ice Queen", that usually lets everything slide right off those thin shoulders?

"_Well_..." What does the clown even say? That he's bored? Or wants someone with a working brain cell to talk to? The witch will just laugh at him. "I thought I'd come up here and repay all the _kindness_ ya showed me the other day, especially what ya did to my face."

"What, are you worried about a little scar?" Clenching his jaw, Joker tries to calm himself down at the jab. He knows _exactly_ what she meant. His face is so scarred up already, what difference will a tiny one from a keycard make?

"Your face is _fine_. Don't be a baby... If you're that worried about your looks, I can always heal it." His neck cranes back from hearing the playful chuckle coming from beneath him. Did she forget what happened the other day? That the gloves are on? Or does it not matter?

_'Is she crazy?'_

"Doubt those things are coming off soon, sweetheart. You made quite the, ah, _impact_ on the block in your little rampage. Didn't know ya had it in ya! Guess you're gonna be stuck here for a while... Never imagined it was that easy to get under that skin of yours." Yep, there's no leaving J-block soon. He made sure of _that_. She's not getting out of this that easily.

"Hahaha... You really are a _moron_..." The clown gives her hair a harsh tug as she laughs, not understanding what's so funny about the situation. Doesn't she realize the position she was in? That Harold's not coming to the rescue or able to vouch for her anymore?

There can only be two logical explanations. Either this woman truly is insane... or he underestimated this cunning little fox once again. That seems to be a common occurrence that needs to be rectified immediately.

"And why is that, _witch?"_ His voice dangerously drops a few octaves, remembering why the other day even happened in the first place. Those goddamn dreams and the bullshit that follows. This foolish woman causing things to resurface that should be long dead. Shame, embarrassment, blinding anger that leads to stupidity and impatience… That can't keep happening. He can't even recall that last time he felt shame but had a heavy dose of it the other day in bed. If he didn't cause his toys to feel those emotions so often, he might not have recognized them.

"Would you stop calling me that already_, clown?"_ The sound of her clicking her tongue makes him feel smug, knowing that it annoys her. She claims to be a medic, but that doesn't mean she's not a witch in the same token.

"Let me ask you something... After the last few weeks we've been getting to know each other and _all_ the nasty things you've said to me, do you really think that's all it takes to get to me? That my self-discipline and control are so flimsy that a few names and choice words will make me lose it all?"

Joker freezes from hearing the words coming from her mouth. A lump forms in his throat as he wildly looks down towards the body on the mattress. He can't see her but knows exactly where she is. That... was all an _act?_ No, that's not true. The clown saw the anger in her eyes at the mention of _that_ man, even if the rest was all theatrics. This witch is trying to play it cool, knowing he's the one that found her button and will use it against her. If she pretends not to care, he's less likely to use it and will look for something more damaging.

"I guess I should thank you, _Joker_. You gave me the scenario I need to stay in this place. The assessment is right around the corner... Thanks for letting me use you to get what I want, _again_. Hahaha!"

Gritting his teeth, the thumping in his chest heightens to a deafening rhythm, and the urge to murder Sakura comes back with a vengeance. No one uses the _Joker_ and tries to manipulate the situation to appear like they're in control when they aren't.

Tremors run from head to toe as the rage piles up into a vicious mount, causing the muscles beneath his marred skin to bunch up. This bitch... Always trying to make a fool out of him... A clown for the "Queen's" entertainment.

Joker lunges forward and straddled her waist with the pressure in his eyes turning them bloodshot in his unbridled anger. Large hands wrap around the pale neck beneath him, pressing hard and digging his dirty nails into the tender flesh, drawing blood.

"Hehehaha..." Sakura's laughter bounces off the walls of the small cell, echoing through his head as he pants hard. He needs to make that noise stop now, even if it means killing her. The rage and constant attempts at humiliation are more than enough to do this. His arms tremble violently from the adrenaline and strain in his rigid body.

Why? Why isn't Sakura scared? How is she not afraid of him? Or never seems to care about her own life? Is it that insignificant? With the brains and strength her ability affords her, there's _so_ much potential. So much damn potential wasted, that it's _tragic_.

This woman is Irene Adler to his Sherlock Holmes... Butting heads and going toe to toe, but if by some miracle they join up together... God help the world.

**_"I know you can understand me out of all the people I've met since I came here, and vice versa. No matter how hard you try or try not to, you know that I do get it and that's why you try to push me away because it angers you."_**

"Fuck!" Letting go of the grip around the pinkette's neck, a harsh cough comes up as she gasps for air. Pulling his arm back, he smacks her across the face as hard as he can, panting and cursing. A stunned breath leaves her pink lips, not expecting the hit in the dark. Another comes right after, the sound resonating around the cell as his large hand collides with her cheek.

Gasping harshly, his dark eyes glare at the spot where she's laying and half-expecting more laughter to come from the cocky woman. The veins in his forehead throb with the blood racing throughout him. Being on top of her like this, having control, and leaving her with none while she's unable to do anything... It makes him feel _powerful_. This strong, willful woman can't even stop him from trying to smack some sense into her, even if she makes him blindingly angry.

Silence... Nothing but his own breathing and pounding heart are all he can hear. No snarky comments or antagonistic rebuttals, not even a whine from the force he used against her. Most women would've probably lost consciousness from a swing like that, but he knows she's still awake.

"Why... Why aren't you afraid of me?" The words come out against his will, even if they're what's been eating at him all this time. It pisses him off that grown men piss themselves when he smiles in their faces, yet a tiny woman spits venom in his direction without caring about the consequences.

Moments go by without a word, making the agitation build up into more aggression. The clown said something that shouldn't have been uttered and now she's going to ignore him?

The last two days were spent partially victorious, the other in confusion and doubt. Joker wants to believe he won, that he made his way inside of her and left his mark... the same way she had. Deep down, there's an incessant feeling that wasn't the case and this foolish woman is seemingly untouchable with everyone being pawns in the games she plays to pass the time. That he is too and the thought is unbearable...

Since when does _The Joker_ become a toy for anyone, let alone some pink-haired witch? This person with incredible abilities that are allowing themselves to be locked away like a caged animal...

"Why do you assume I'm _not?"_ If his hearing wasn't so keen, he might not have even picked up on the quiet words. Did she really just say that? What does it mean?

Joker's brow furrows as the tension in his muscles starts to wane and his shoulders drop a few inches from the hunched position over her. There's something in the way she said it...

_'Is she lying?'_

"I can see it in your eyes... The way you laugh and mock me. Trying to screw with my head. You're _insufferable_..." Sucking his lips inwards, his breath stills in his chest. Anticipation eats away at the anger, wanting to hear what she's going to say. Will there be any honestly in it or just more games?

"I... am afraid of _you_." His eyes narrow on the mattress, not trusting his own ears to be working properly. "I won't pretend I understand everything about you, but I know that you're more cruel and cunning than most men. You're incredibly dangerous and skillful at the things you plan and execute. If you think I underestimate or don't think highly of you, that's not true at all..."

_'What?'_

This isn't what he'd expected... Not at all. Maybe some laughter, a few jokes, more name-calling. Joker's not sure if he should be horrified or pleased with the words spilling from her lips. Something in the pit of his stomach tells him this isn't a ruse, that she's being painfully honest.

"I should be terrified of you. After all the articles and reports on your crimes and actions... I already knew you're not some moronic clown. There's no doubt in my mind that you can get rid of me. There are other ways to make someone suffer aside from physical pain. We both know this all too well..."

Joker looms above in the darkness, not willing to interrupt her if she was so _willing_ to hammer more nails into her own coffin.

"The things I went through used up all the fear I can physically show. All that's left is a handful of emotions leftover. I'm not sure what's even there anymore... If I was a normal person or even the woman I used to be, maybe you could've seen it..." The soft voice sounds sad, almost remorseful. This isn't like her, not the person he's been getting to know throughout these last few weeks. It similar to that night she came into his cell to heal him and Sakura explained how alike they are and how the world rejects them.

Joker doesn't like this. Not the way she sounds, not the way it causes his chest to tighten, or the way she's making him feel. He wants more anger, name-calling, games, even a fistfight if he takes the straightjacket off. If this is her idea of another joke, it's _not_ funny.

Perhaps they are alike in some ways. If life played out another way, maybe she could have seen an entirely different man. One that doesn't lust for blood and destruction all the time. Someone that's not always trying to get rid of the things that make him human in the first place.

If that was the case, they never would have met.

"_Heh_... You're definitely not a normal chick, that's for sure... Who would have thought something so pretty can be wrapped around so much crazy?" The rage dies down, even if he doesn't want it to. It's almost like she's pulling it right out of him and getting rid of it. The witch wants to hollow him out and fill him with whatever she fancies.

"Hahaha... Who knows?" There's a playfulness to her voice, replacing the sadness as she switches gears. It's strange to see someone that can do that as he does. She's able to adapt to her surroundings and situations faster than he's witnessed many people capable of.

_'Interesting…'_

So, Sakura's afraid of him? Even knowing she can break him in half over her knee? She understands there are other ways of getting to her that can go around that monstrous physical strength? What a smart woman... It seems someone did their homework, after all. It's strangely flattering.

"Why do ya want to stay here? Ya could've broken out long ago with that gorilla strength. Isn't there anyone on the other side? Or are ya such a boring woman that ya have nothing better to do but sit in the nuthouse, wasting away?" That's another question poking at him for some time too. Sure, he's here for a reason and has his reasons, but she's been here for _three years._ What's the point? Someone like her always has a purpose or motive behind her actions. "Why are ya purposefully sabotaging yourself?"

"Hmm... Good question. Honestly, there's no one left... Everyone's _gone_." The way her voice shakes causes his frown to deepen. This is a first for her. "Even though you got those papers from Harleen's office, they're not true. I never killed my friends or family, but they did die. All of them... Those doctors will believe whatever they want, it doesn't matter what I say. I have nothing left with no way of going back or returning home... What's waiting for me outside of these walls is far worse than what's inside of them..."

"What do ya _mean_, dollface?" So, the papers weren't accurate after all... What a _waste_. The clown knew something didn't seem right and should've waited to find out more information. That's one of his top skills and he put the cart before the horse.

"I can't explain it... Don't really want to either. You wouldn't believe me anyway, trust me on _that_." The chuckle she let out only makes him more curious about what she's talking about. What's waiting for her outside of the asylum? Instead of getting answers, he's left with even more questions. Without being able to see her face that can throw him off with subtle looks and feigned expressions, there's something in her voice that tells him she is being unusually honest.

This entire situation is strange. Why is Sakura being like this after he tried to hurt her emotionally and mess with her head? Despite the jokes and gestures, the pinkette has gone for the throat the way he does. After the first time, she never brought up Jeanie, even though she could've with knowing the effect it can have.

There were so many masks Sakura wears. Manipulative, cunning, sweet, terrifying, calm, vicious, enthralled, bored, entertained, annoyed… It's hard distinguishing them when her face can don one and hide another. Someone so beautiful that can turn ugly faster than the eye can blink and never knowing if she's going to caress his face or crush his throat.

Joker witnesses how she manipulates the people and scenarios around them. Twisting guards around those dainty, little fingers, and bending them to her will just for entertainment. Paralyzingly and tossing him around just to make a point, before tucking him into bed. Nothing she does makes sense...

Yet here she is, lying in the dark with him and opening up in a way he can't fathom.

"Hahaha! What a _pathetic_ woman!" The talented fighter will throw her life away just because there's something out there the "Great Ice Queen" doesn't want to deal with? How ridiculous...

"What does that make you then? Killing a guard and putting on his uniform just to come up here to see _me?_ Sad clown..."

Joker can't resist the grin pulling at the scarred corners of his mouth. No matter what they talk about, he's being drawn in, even though he can't see her. What an interesting woman... The more he learns, the more he realizes how little he knows. That's okay... The pinkette has no plans of going anywhere and he can be here as long as he feels like.

That will change. Joker has no intention of spending the rest of his days locked up in an asylum intent on breaking him and everyone else down to nothingness.

_Nope._

It's only a matter of time until this entire place will be turned upside down and go up in flames. He'll walk through those doors, the same way he's done before. This time he won't be alone, even if it means dragging this witch by her hair, kicking and screaming.

If Sakura's life means so little to her with nothing to live for, there won't be anything wrong with keeping it for himself... _Right?_


	15. Spellbound

"If it's not too much to ask... Can you get off of my chest? This damn jacket is digging into my sides and you're _heavy_._" _Sakura grumbles and squirms against the mattress, becoming uncomfortable from the weight on her midsection.

"Hahaha! What's wrong sweetheart? Can't use that, ah, _brute_ strength to break out of it? C'mon... This shouldn't be too much for someone like you." The clown can't help laughing at the labored breaths coming from beneath him. Despite such a difference in size, there's an even greater one in physical strength. That in itself is ironic... Enough so to earn another chuckle.

This woman has to be 10-11 inches shorter than him, depending if he's slouching as usual. She's so much smaller... Probably 70 pounds lighter by his estimate. That doesn't stop her from tossing him around like a book bag when a pissy brat gets home from school. A straightjacket should be child's play for a person like this... Unless the gloves suppress that power? He's still working on his own hypothesis about that.

This can all just be a ploy to draw out reactions as she tries to figure him out or could be legitimate. Who knows? If there's an amazing actress, it's this strange person whose odd appearance can rival his own in absurdity.

"I'm tired... and you were just choking me, _asshole_. Now, get off before I wrap my legs around those precious ribs of yours and crush them." Her voice still sounds drowsy, but that doesn't stop any promises of violence. If anything, he should give a good bounce or two with his full-weight for talking to him like that. Just to hear the air forced out of those lungs.

_But he doesn't._

With a chuckle, the clown pushes off her with a little more force than necessary. Sakura heaves from him using her as leverage to get up, his large hands pushing the pinkette further into the dingy mattress. Part of him expects those skinny legs to coil around his neck and choke him unconscious.

_But she doesn't._

The straightjacket only restricts the upper body... The bottom is free and there's no doubt in his mind it's just as deadly as the other half, gloves or not.

Joker shifts over to sit next to her, settling down onto the rigid bed. The wheels turn rapidly in his mind about what to do with this situation. He's not ready to return to D-block anytime soon, refusing to waste the effort that went into this. That's not all, is it? The thought is loathsome, but perhaps an infinitesimal part of him enjoys this person's company. He can see the limitless potential in her if given a push in the right direction. A powerhouse with a functioning brain is a rarity these days, but to find one in such a pretty package, ribbon, and all? Too good of an opportunity to let go...

Discovering there's nothing and no one in this person's life and an endless void stretching before her, it feels all too familiar. Far more than he likes. This is a perfect situation the clown can't resist taking advantage of.

Joker knows the ball can be in his court if he makes the right moves. One of his many talents is giving direction to the aimless. One thing he learned on the streets and from experience is that he has a knack for drawing in people that don't fit the "mold" society meticulously crafted.

A majority of the men that work for him are those thrown away in the trash. The mentally unstable, murderers, thieves, criminals. People with nothing going for them, no one to stop their madness, nothing to live for. Most can't find employment, and even if they do, it never lasts. Jobs in Gotham are as scarce as empathy, and that's practically nonexistent these days.

If no one else wants to put these people to work, he will. They flock to him like an oasis in the desert, resonating with his message and wanting to get back at the city for throwing them in the garbage. The clown can only laugh while collecting Gotham's rejects. After all, is it not his job as an upstanding citizen to recycle?

Those with no sense of self-worth or life to live take little effort to bend to his will, that's for sure. While Sakura may not care or have any plans for the future, that'll change. It'd be a sin to waste such potential. Just thinking about what they can do once outside of this godforsaken place makes his blood rush. The plans, the fighting, and mayhem...

_The_ _chaos_...

With their combined intelligence, his experience, and her ability, it'll mix into a deadly combination. Killing this woman will a terrible waste, but this is a dangerous game to play. Unlike those aimless people drawn to him, this is different. The pinkette is exceedingly cleverer and deviously cunning compared to those schmucks. However, if there's a will, there's a way... It's outright foolish to throw away a weapon that has so many different abilities instead of utilizing them. Joker's not generally a greedy man, but he can't help himself when it comes to weapons of mass destruction...

Guns, explosives, knives, traps, contraptions of his creation built by his own gloved hands... If he can get his claws into this woman and learn to control her, it might be his greatest achievement. Everything else he already possesses or can be easily acquired. They can be stopped or even prevented if law enforcement actually uses the tools and resources they have, but their minds aren't adept enough to deal with him.

If Joker can manipulate Sakura and add her into the equation, he might draw Batman out of hiding faster than the original planned. With the mayhem they'll cause, the flying rat won't have a choice except to come out of retirement. He'll have to stop running from the authorities to save his beloved city. Chasing the clown and the chaos it caused was enough to throw in the towel, after the events that led up to Dent's "untimely" demise...

What will happen if "The Clown Prince of Crime" and "Ice Queen" spread havoc throughout the city? The Bat will have no option but to come out and play once again. Life just isn't the same without being pit up against each other and watching him desperately chasing the bread crumbs left behind. No one else can put any of the pieces together, let alone pose a threat in their pursuit to stop his plans. It brings the clown more excitement than he ever could've imagined... There's no way he can leave things the way they are now.

_Nope._

If this will play out in his favor, this can't be another half-baked scheme like the one to end the pinkette's life. No way... This will take time _and_ effort. He has to put his heart into this one, the same way he did when Gotham was turned upside down and completely shook to its infrastructure. His plans dismantled the hierarchy that ran the city, from bankrupting the mob to effectively changing those that sit at the head of the table in politics.

Steps need to be taken properly... It's important to gain her trust and become a confidant. Only then will he aim the blade straight at her chest where it's empty and needs something to fill the space.

This will be tricky. If he's not careful, everything can be turned around and he can easily find the knife pressed up against his own back. The last few weeks were spent daydreaming and practically foaming at the mouth just thinking about ending the pious little witch. Perhaps it's the total lack of disregard she has towards him or the thought of having a plan worthwhile to do during the wait, but there's chaotic energy ready to explode just beneath the surface. Maybe he just needs to get some pent-up aggression and bloodlust out of his system.

Killing Harold and Jerry helped in one way. Their useless lives amounted to _something_ in death. A sudden act of violence usually calms the storm in his mind, even if only temporarily. Being able to finally stretch out his legs and stiff muscles, it's easier to think clearer while wandering the dim halls of the asylum and remember the bigger picture.

"Roll over." It's not a request, and there's no attempt to make it sound like one either. Despite having no lighting in the cell, he still spins his index finger around as if she can see it.

"What? Why?" There it is... The distrust and rightfully so. What person in their right mind would show their back to _The Joker_ and leave themselves vulnerable?

Well, neither are in their right minds... _apparently_.

"Just. Do _I-t_." Part of him expects an insult or another laugh, maybe even a kick. To his surprise, he feels the pinkette shifting her weight on the mattress.

Reaching out mindfully, his nimble fingers grab ahold of the straps and buckles keeping the sleeves of the straightjacket held tightly in place, making quick work of them. This might be a mistake, but one he's willing to make to see this through. If she wants to kill him, it would've already been over a while ago.

"Ahh, that feels better... I really hate these things. Who the hell came up with this crap and thought it would be a brilliant idea to use on mental patients? It's more or less a torture device." Sakura clicks her tongue, slowly pushing up off the bed and tugging her arms through the thick sleeves.

Joker listens to the annoyed mumbling under her breath, noting how the mattress dips as the small body moves around to lean her back up against the wall. Smart cookie...

"Ah. That would be the _French_..." Smacking his lips, he glances towards the spot where she moved. His eyes are adjusting to the darkness the longer he's in here. This is nothing new after spending countless times sitting in places just like this. By now, he can make out a silhouette against the pitch-black backdrop.

"Figures you'd know that." Of course, he does. Even before they become a regular trend during his stay throughout the years, he's always been interested in ways to manipulate the human body. It's imperative to know everything that might come his way at any point. Weapons, explosives, torture devices... Something about all of it has always called to him, long before he ever touched one.

"How're your elbows? Being in that thing too long can make 'em swell up something _fierce_." Yes, he can play the 'good guy'. Sakura isn't the only one that knows how to do her part well.

Reaching out slowly, he leans closer towards the slim figure in the dark. This is like petting a monstrous dog, without knowing if it'll lash out and sink its canines into his skin, hoping to rip him a new one. How will she respond? It's uncertain what she's capable of doing with those gloves on or if they have any effect. Why else would she offer to heal him? Unless it's just to gauge his reaction?

His calloused tips graze the skin of her arm and the muscles beneath suddenly tense up. Running his tongue along the split skin of his bottom lip, he stares forward intently and dares to move closer.

"What are you doing?" The pinkette's voice is quiet, yet there's no sign of warning in her tone. Only a hint of curiosity, mixed with something else he can't identify. She stays still on the mattress, letting him get within striking range. There weren't any issues with putting her hands on him in the past, so what's wrong with him doing the same?

"Coppin' a free feel. What's it look like, dollface?" In a moment of indulgence, the clown closes his eyes and letting his rough fingers ghost over the smooth skin of her forearm. It feels soft, even more so than he can recall during those moments he repeatedly replays their interactions. The dreams that constantly plagued him hadn't done it justice in the least.

To his surprise, the pinkette stays frozen in place, allowing him to continue in the small act. It's not lost on him that if she wants to, there's nothing stopping her from letting him know where she draws the line. Straightjacket or not, that won't stop this woman from voicing her displeasure or throwing a devastating fist in his direction, making it abundantly clear if she doesn't like something.

Trailing up the thin arm wrapped around her knees, the clown notices how slender they really are. His hand can easily engulf the width of the pinkette's pale limb. It's unreal how much strength something this small can produce.

_'Like a pipe bomb.' _

Cautiously, he moves up towards her elbow, waiting for a warning to halt his advance. Is she going to stop him? Or take the touch as something perverse? It won't be a surprise if she does. Every day, men ogle at her in the shower rooms, whether or not it's wanted. There are barely any female employees that work in the asylum anymore in comparison to the last time he was here.

Taking her wrist in his other hand, he extends the limp limb forward and gently prods and feels along her elbow. Having more experience in a straight jacket than anyone would care to admit, the clown knows all too well the swelling it can cause from blood pooling in that area. Compared to the two weeks spent in his, two days isn't much but is still an uncomfortable experience.

_"_Hmm… No swelling."

"No shit. What do you take me for?" The left side of his eye twitches at the retort, dropping her arm back against her bent knee. Should've known... Just from the way her arm moves and how relaxed the muscles are, she must still be able to use that ability.

_'At least it confirmed somethin'. Little witch... Playing everyone like a fool.'_

"So, ya can still heal yourself even with the gloves on? _Hmm? _They don't suppress your, ah, _gorilla gene_ as the asylum assumes, does it?"

"Gorilla gene? Is that what you think of it?" There's a hint of indignation in her voice when she finally speaks. He was wondering why she said nothing or acted out while he examined her arm. Was she just allowing it to see what he'll do?

"...The gloves disrupt the flow, but it's nothing I can't handle. All it takes is a little concentration and I can work my way around it." Joker's brow furrows at the explanation. Flow? Is it like electrical impulses or a current? It must be something that needs to channel through the body, similar to how blood runs through veins. Someone who's careful with their words wouldn't describe it as a 'flow', otherwise. "I guess it's like trying to walk straight when you're feeling a little drunk. If you put your mind to it, anything's possible. That's probably the best way I can explain it..."

The gloves are inevitably useless... The staff must think they're sealing her powers by putting them on, and she goes along with it. How funny... and _smart_. It gets them to let their guard down, thinking they're safe as long as the pair stay on. That must be what the baton Harold had the other day can do. This place is unknowingly very ill-equipped to handle such a person, and they don't even realize it.

"Hahaha! What a cunning little fox!"

"Well, it's not like I'll tell them... I see how the staff is here. They'll keep going at it until they get it _right_. Their medical team's useless to help the injuries these bastards keep handing out. Look what happened with just one session with Dr. Arkham. How they left you in bed in that condition..." Sakura sighs, shifting against the mattress.

_'It upset her... The night she came to heal me...'_

"So ya just couldn't help yourself... Could you? I'm touched! Didn't know ya cared _so_ much about what happens to poor ol' Mr. J." A smirk tugs at his lips and he lets it. It's not like she could see his expressions in the dark, anyway. Right?

_'Shouldn't assume anything. Made that mistake one too many times. Anything is possible. I can't underestimate her more than I have already.'_

"Guess that's not the case anymore, right? Like ya said before, ya should've let me rot. Or was that all an act as well?" Grazing teeth over his bottom lip, he's convinced at least 90% of what happened the other day was all for show. Just a way to stay in the asylum and not get transferred, just like she wants.

Sakura chuckles playfully and pushes off the wall. He can see her slim silhouette shifting in the dark.

"Smart man. I like that about you... Not everyone can put two and two together, even when I lay it out for them." The mattress dips when the pinkette leans forward in front of him. Bating a breath, the clown waits to see what she'll do now. "You're an interesting man, that's for sure."

_"Interesting?" _Joker scoffs at the description, almost offended by it. Knowing her, it's just a backhanded compliment or something similar.

"Yeah, to say the least... What you did was pretty shitty, but the reason behind is so... _intriguing_. Why go through the trouble only to get 'part' of a file? Or doing what you can to rile me up? There are so many other things you could've done with that time and effort. Why waste it like that? I just couldn't help thinking about it since I've been sitting here all by my lonesome."

Even in the dark, Joker knows there's a sneer on that pretty face... He can hear it in her voice. So confident in her deductions, always knowing and seeing far more than should be possible. The same way he is, except when it comes to her. Even if there's a grasp on this strange woman, it's only featherlight...

He always has a tight grip on the situation and people around him. Perhaps that's what makes this so interesting. Knowing what will happen and how people will react is how he gets through everything, but this brings some much-needed excitement. Life becomes boring if there's not a challenge or something to keep him on his toes.

There's no way of knowing how this will turn out. Similar to having a scratch-off lottery ticket and the person can only use a coin to take off a little at a time. The anticipation of wanting to know whether or not they won is gnawing at their insides, but they have to be patient until all the numbers are revealed to see if anything matches.

"Oh, is that _right_? And what did that little pink head come up with? _Hmm?_ Let's hear _it_." Shifting on the bed, he cranes his neck from one side to the other, the noises from it cracking sounding louder than it should in the quiet room. Good thing Harold's playing a temporary substitute right now... He doesn't want the guards interrupting their conversation. It's always entertaining getting a peek at how the wheels turn in the pinkette's head.

"Well, this is just speculation, to be honest... I think you wanted to push me straight off the edge to make things easier on yourself. From what I've gathered, you don't like anything that causes doubt or to second guess yourself. Can't stand anything out of your control or can't be manipulated." Dark eyes narrow in her direction. His jaw shifts around in agitation while he listens.

"Someone like me doesn't fit into that category as comfortably as you'd like, so instead of trying to work around it, throwing it away or trying to break it probably seem like an easier choice..." The shifting turns to clenching with his teeth grinding noisily. "Instead of feeling relief like you hoped, it left you with a hollow victory and even more self-doubt. To a man like you, that must've been _un-bear-able_, haha!"

"Christ, woman! Get to the point!" Joker's starting to feel that familiar agitation ebbing away at the patience he meticulously put together and tries to resist the urges gnawing at his insides. If this woman wasn't valuable, her neck would've been snapped after the first few sentences.

"Okay, okay... Calm down, Rambo. I'm getting there..."

_'So, this bitch knows what that is, but not what playing cards are? Should've fucking known... Plays more damn games than I do.'_

"_Tch_. So damn impatient... Anyway, you weren't satisfied with the outcome and didn't feel as mighty as you thought. I mean, come on... You can't have some "pink-haired witch" undermining the great "Clown Prince of Crime", right? It was most likely eating away at you that your little stunt only got me a private room... Somewhere you can't see the results of your efforts like planned. Someone who likes to sit back and watch things burn was probably clawing at the glass, huh?" The way she laughs causes his temples to throb worse than any loving caress the good doctor gives with his favorite toys.

"... _Sakura_..." The words came out in a low growl, warning the playful woman that her observations and teasing are taking a dangerous turn. Rough hands clench at his sides, trying to hold themselves back from doing something stupid. His dirty nails bite into the palms they're digging into, threatening to break the skin and draw blood.

"Wow. That's the first time you said my name..." The little matter-of-fact tone and surprise in her voice throw him off momentarily. He let himself become so angry that it didn't dawn on him that it was uttered to his sudden horror.

There's always been a point for Joker to not refer to the witch by her name. Aside from using nicknames to get under people's skin, it makes things less or more personal depending on the circumstances. In this case, he uses derogatory titles to separate her from the person she is... To make her less human, just like the strange abilities she has. It's a way of not acknowledging her.

"I'm touched, _Joker_..." Taking in a deep breath, he slowly exhales, making the cracked skin along the sides of his mouth puff out. This woman's intentionally being antagonistic, trying to bait him into doing something. For what reason... It doesn't even matter.

The clown played along to her tune for far too long and beneath him to allow someone to lead him by the nose this way one time too many. He's smarter than this and needs to act it. If something this small can set him off, how is she going to take him seriously? The goal is to learn how to control and manipulate this weapon, not succumb to it.

When a person trains a dog, they can't just yell and smack it at every given chance. Otherwise, the results won't turn out as planned and everything will be a waste. Patience and effort... That's what it takes to successfully mold a belligerent animal into an excellent tool for the craft.

"Don't get used to it, sweetheart. Just wanted to, ah, _see_ how it felt rolling off the tongue. Gotta admit, I have an easier time with stomach acid." There it is. As long as he stays calm and thinks clearly, she can't slide that razor blade under the layers of his skin. After all these years, it's become quite thick and won't let the petty things pierce it so easily.

"Mhm... _Sure_. Anyway, after having some time to reflect and see how things are with me finally gone, you found yourself incredibly… _bored_. It didn't turn out as planned. For the last few weeks, we got to know each other a bit and have an understanding of sorts. Our little game just isn't as fun if both players aren't there, is it?" Chuckling sweetly at her own clever words, she moves a little closer on the small bed.

"Besides hating Harold's guts, you were probably too restless and needed something to do not to fall deeper into that "gray area". Killing him and stealing his uniform gave you access to do what you've been trying to put off the last two days and got rid of some pent-up frustration you can't take out on me... among other things. Probably felt like hitting a small flock of birds with one stone, didn't it?"

"And that's what's so _interesting?_ If ya did your homework like a good girl, it's not a secret that I do things like this all the time in lockdown. Sometimes, smart women who _think_ they know everything, end up putting the cart _way_ ahead of the horse." Putting off what? Coming to see her? How arrogant... Already assuming so much and that he took out his rage on the guards, instead of doing something to her. Too full of herself to realize his actions aren't out of some misplaced feelings towards her instead of him wanting to keep the witch in one piece to use later on. Is that what she believes?

"Hmm... I don't think so, clown. Honestly, I think you missed me... You missed our conversations, the games we play, feeling like there's someone who understands you and has common ground with. It's the little things, even behind the big moves, that says more about what kind of person the Joker is. People only take your actions at face value." Joker cocks his head to the side, agitatedly prodding the ruined skin on the inside of his cheek. If he wasn't so intrigued by her assumptions and observations, he wouldn't be able to subdue the urge to lash out.

"Murdering important figures in Gotham, but not asking why. Robbing banks run by the mob without trying to understand the reasoning behind it. Why steal the mob's fortune just to burn it? What's the point of blowing up a hospital, yet giving them enough time to evacuate instead of just torching the place? No one ever tries to figure out anything... Always looking at the crimes, but what's behind them."

This woman talks far _too_ much. She sees and hears _too_ damn much. Perhaps keeping someone like this alive can be dangerous, even with a goal in mind. He doesn't like it. Not. One. _Bit_. Someone like Sakura can't truly understand the reasoning behind his actions or why he does things a certain way.

"I see the way the guards and other inmates act around you, an anti-social man who makes far more enemies than comrades. What the media claims and the public's opinion. You don't care what anyone thinks, but I can tell there's a part of you that wants someone who's just as twisted that can keep up and really see things for what they are. Even if you haven't realized it yet yourself... Mhmm."

Frozen on the spot, Joker almost can't believe the shit coming from this woman's mouth. Someone really has done their research and all while being locked behind bulletproof glass in the most secure facility in the entire region. _It's flattering_. In a way, it reminds the clown of himself... All the effort and work he put into his plans over the course of a year before revealing himself to the mob and pushing everything into motion.

If she wasn't talking _about_ him, he would've been even more impressed. Part of him can't help wondering how crazier things might've become in the events that led to the Bat's retirement had this woman been by his side. He could've accomplished so much more... In the same token, the fun might've ended too soon if she had a change of heart along the way.

_'Things pan out the way they're meant to.' _

There's no use fantasizing about something that's already happened. The only thing to do is plan ahead and leave the past where it belongs.

"HAHAHAHAAA!" The clown can feel her jumped at his raucous laughter from the movement on the mattress. Even if he can't see her, there are other ways of picking up her subtle reactions and feelings if he pays close attention to detail. "Think ya got me all figured out, dontcha!"

Sakura says nothing, but he can tell she was on guard, listening intently, and waiting for him to react. What's she looking for or trying to confirm in that little pink head? Things can't be taken literally and there's always a chance everything's an act to get what she desires. What that truly is, no one but the witch knows for sure.

"I don't know what you're tryin' to get out of me, but it seems ya have a few, ah, _wires_ twisted in that pretty little head of yours." A sneer plasters on his marred face, running the words the woman said on another loop. She really is crazy, but he can appreciate that.

Moving across the bed and closing the small space between them, Joker grabs the pinkette's jaw in a bruising grip. Pushing her back, he uses his full weight to pin her to the wall. It doesn't matter if she can pummel him to death, he's not afraid of her or death. Batman or not, he'll do as he pleases.

A small squeak from the slip of a woman as the air rushes from her lungs makes him smile wickedly and his lips pulling back over his teeth. There's no way of controlling this person if she thinks he's afraid of being hurt. Joker's not worried about pain. It was the inconvenience of a broken body halting his plans that caused him to hold back before.

"Tell me, Sakura... Ya think I'm a _sucker_, hmm? An _anti-hero_? Villain with a _righteous_ cause? Is that what you think of me?!" No, he not... Even if that's what she wants to believe. "Wanna come up with some stupid shit to make me sound better than I really am? Will that ease your conscious? Because we both know you're drawn to me the same way. Hahaha!"

The pinkette's tense against him as he leans just inches away from her face, letting his hot breath fan across her pale skin. A snarl rips through his throat when she tries turning away.

"Look. At. _Me_." The hand gripping her jaw tightens painfully. His fingers dig into the soft flesh as he holds her still. The witch _needs_ to hear this.

"Don't want to accept what I am? I do things because I _want_ to. Not for some valiant-_t_ cause. _Nope_... The only love I have in this world is chaos and destruction. Tearing down anything this city builds and proving how futile everything is. To send a clear message to the world and show them what's fair in this world they created. We've talked about reality, how things truly are... You _do_ understand. My existence is to create problems and destroy solutions, _rinse and repeat_."

Dark eyes harden at the pinkette he has pushed up against the cold surface. This is the closest he's gotten to her that isn't part of a dream... The adrenaline's racing through his veins, making his heart pound in his chest. So close... He can smell the long silky hair dangling between them as he holds her eye-level off the mattress. Sakura's small knees barely graze the orange fabric covering his upper thighs. With just a slight shift, she can knee him right in the balls. Part of him is confident she won't as his own stay planted into the sheets, holding their position.

The muscles in his face flexed, tensing up as he purses his ruined lips together. The twitching in his eye wouldn't calm down as he stared at the shadowy form in his grasp, black orbs flickering back and forth, trying to find something to direct his glare towards.

What's Sakura _really_ looking for? A kindred spirit? A replacement for the man who killed her heart? Or something else... Is this all an act solely for the "Ice Queen's" entertainment?

It doesn't matter... One way or another, Joker will force her to submit to him, whether or not she likes it. He's not an anti-hero or a gentleman. Has never been the type of man to help or save others. The plans he cooks up aren't done out of some twisted desire to make Gotham a better place. He does what he wants because he _can_.

The clown's both angry and intrigued. Is this woman trying to project traits from another onto him? When Sakura looks at him, is she really seeing Joker or someone else? It really drives him up a wall, not knowing for sure but is unwilling to ask. Is she trying to mold him into a substitute for whatever that bastard's name is? If he knew what kind of person that man is, it'd be easier to determine if she's genuinely interested or trying to force him to be something he's not.

A thought he refuses to entertain resurfaces its ugly head again.

Nope, he's not going there...

_'Were you right, Jeanie?'_

Goddammit...

Sakura exhales deeply—_as if she's dealing with a temperamental child—_drawing him back to reality. If only he actually can read minds like, he believed she could do all this time... Had some way of finding what this little minx desires or wants from him. All this time, they played a game of tag with him trying to chase after what he wants from her and after the pinkette didn't seem interested, she starts chasing him. This just seems to be an endless cycle with neither knowing why or what they're actually looking for. At least that's how it appears to him. For all the clown knows, the pinkette already knew what she wants and how to get it.

"Hahaha..." Reaching out, Sakura grabs the sides of his face as he holds hers. Right now, both of them can hurt each other if they want, but won't. Even if Joker refuses to admit anything, it's true. "You seem to misunderstand something..."

Like the night she healed him, her thumbs brush along the puffy, cracked skin of his cheeks, just as gentle and careful as he remembers. Joker's brow furrows as he struggled with the inner turmoil and the urge to throw her off against the wall, to get her away from something so personal. Why does he let the witch get close enough to touch his scars like this? Anyone else would never even have the opportunity, let alone still have a full set of fingers to repeat the offensive action.

Despite knowing better, he feels his muscles relax and the grip on her jaw lessens by a hair. All it takes is a single touch anymore, and she's able to make the anger wane. Is it part of her ability? Or just the effect she has on him?

_'Sorceress and her goddamn spells...'_

The gloves cover everything except the last joint of her fingers, but it's enough. They trail along his skin curiously, feeling around his face in the dark. Swallowing hard, he stills as she focuses on his scars. For some reason, she enjoys touching them to his bewilderment.

Sakura's fingertips touch the cracked skin, slowly ghosting over every dip and curve on each side as if trying to commit them to memory. The clown can't fathom her actions. Are the vicious marks attractive to her, or is this some disturbing fascination with how the body heals itself? He can't bring himself to ask, almost unwilling to find out, or stopping her.

They stopped hurting years ago but left him with some nerve damage and horrific scarring. The only time he really feels anything from them is right before it rains and _this_. Something grazing against the swollen marks, which are usually his own fingers or tongue. No one touches them unless it's punching him in the face... Typically the Bat's the only one able to accomplish that feat.

This is an entirely unfamiliar sensation. It has his nerves on edge, wondering if the pinkette will give in to the sadistic urges he knows she's capable of and uses those delicate fingers to tear them open again.

What a sight that would be... To see that sneer on her face and those gloved hands covered in his blood.

_'Mmm... That would be... beautiful...'_

"I don't think of you like that at all. There are no stupid ideals I want to push onto you. I like the monster you already are... Don't want to change any of it. I know what we both are and so do you... We're not the good guys in this story."

Joker almost jumps back when her hands twist into his hair, yanking him forward as she presses her lips against his. This has to be another screwed up dream because it sure as hell isn't real. The "Ice Queen" would never pull this kind of shit...

This is just a dream... So, whatever happens won't affect reality when he wakes up. It won't matter then, right?

Hesitating for a moment, the grip on her jaw tightens while he debates with himself, but no coherent thought surfaces. This isn't real anyway, so it won't hurt to indulge himself the way he does during the nighttime. The drugs this asylum deals out are really something, huh?... Now he can't tell when he's sleeping or not anymore.

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his lips move against hers. The pounding in his chest is just as erratic as it always is in these moments of deep sleep, feeling more real than he'd ever like.

Letting go of her jaw, his large hands dig into her hair as she slides down the wall without him balancing her weight against it. Not willing to break away, he leans forward to follow and his fingers grip the pink locks at the root so she won't move.

_'Fucking hell...'_

Closing his eyes, he revels in the warmth coming from the small body against him. It's soothing, just like her touch. Calming the roaring storm in his mind, but starting up another in its place. These are moments that really make him question his own sanity...

Joker groans into her mouth, enjoying how soft her lips his against his damaged mouth. They're more supple than they usually are in his dreams, her kiss sweeter and more demanding than he remembers.

_'This isn't a dream...'_

Eyes spring open when realization dawns on him. The Sakura in his dreams always follows up with some act of violence, but this one's content with just being close and tasting him.

With a growl, he shoves Sakura away onto the mattress. _Away from him_. Anger flares as his tongue snakes out to swipe off the remnants of her poisonous lips from his own. This isn't how it's supposed to go. A few steps of his plan were skipped, and he's practically _handing_ her the reigns.

"What's wrong?" The pinkette's confusion causes his chest to tighten, and he's not sure why. Joker tries shaking his head clear of the nasty spell she has him under. No... _He_ has to be the one to wrap the chains around that scrawny neck, not the other way around... "Isn't that what you wanted? Did I misunderstand something?"

"Don't get it twisted, _doll_." Leaning over to where he pushed her, he reaches out to grasp the pinkette's jaw, caressing the soft skin with his calloused fingers. "I know what I want and you misunderstand more than you can imagine..." Hearing the way her breath comes out in small pants excites him. Yes, there's no doubt in his mind now over what he wants, bringing clarity to his indecisiveness.

"Then what is it? Because you're confusing the hell out of me..."

"You... I think I'm going to, ah, _keep_ you, after all, _Sakura_." Even if it's for different reasons, that doesn't matter and there's no need for her to understand. He will keep this game going until he's satisfied with the results. All the clown knows is that he needs her to keep it going, and nothing else really matters beyond that.

"Hah! Let's see who keeps who... _Joker_..."

* * *

"I know, I know..."

How many times has this conversation happened already? It's becoming too repetitive for Harleen's liking...

_"Look, I'm just trying to look out for you. You're my little sister… I'm just worried."_

There's really no need. Honestly... Can't anyone else see that?

Looking down at the papers on the coffee table, the blonde shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. The same old concerns, over and over again.

"I get it... I appreciate that you guys care, believe me. Look, this makes me happy. It's what I look forward to. You might not understand and I don't know if there's a way to explain it, but that's what it is. I _enjoy_ my job. It's always something different every day." Despite her words, there's no doubt Ash will worry, anyway. They've always been close growing up and still is, but her sister doesn't understand the life she wants to have.

Ash has a husband and children. Beautiful babies that Harleen loves with every fiber of her being. Maybe someday she'll become a mother herself. Who knows... Crazier things have happened. It just doesn't seem to be in the cards for the time being.

_"... Harleen... I'm just worried this job is taking over your life. Honestly... I don't think you would've come to Mom's funeral if your boss didn't force you to take off for the week. As soon as it was over, you wanted to drive straight home! I know this is a hard time for all of us, but I don't think you're handling it in a... healthy way."_ The voice on the other line causes the doctor internally groan, wanting to tell her sister not to worry... She's a grown woman that can make her own decisions.

Even after all these years, Ash still wants to act the part of the older sister, complaining and fretting over anything that didn't seem "normal" to her. So what if Harleen loves her job and prefers being at the asylum than sitting home doing nothing worthwhile? What does it matter if it feels more productive talking to serial killers than going out on dates? It's a preference.

Harleen would rather use her time wisely by trying to help rehabilitate her patients than sit through dinner with another man her sister sets her up with. More often than not, the doctor just slumps through the meal and pretends she cares about whatever mundane story her date drones on about. Doesn't she spend enough time listening to other people talk about themselves, anyway? Usually, no one even asks how she's doing or feels. Everyone's just concerned with themselves... It's frustrating...

Glancing down at the papers, a smile spreads across her lips seeing the transcript from one of the recent sessions. No one can possibly comprehend how she feels, especially someone like her sister that's content with the life she has.

_"I just don't understand..."_

No. Most people can't...

* * *

Fastening the last buckle on the straight jacket, Joker sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. This took a much different turn than he imagined. A few weeks ago, a scenario like this would've never played out in his mind. Not even _close_. He'd probably stab himself to death for even thinking it.

_'Life really is hilariously unpredictable... That's what makes it interesting...'_

To think not only did the 'Ice Queen' willingly kiss him, but he returned it with the same hunger she exhibited... _Unbelievable_. How many times did they promise to kill each other during the late nights in that first week? How many ways he's fantasized about murdering her? A few times, he actually tried to or attempted to physically harm her. Part of him still wants to...

_'That's what makes it exciting.'_

"Are you going to visit me again?" Sakura's voice is soft with an innocent enough question. If only she knew the side of him it's bringing out, then maybe she would've kept silent.

A malicious grin spreads across his face as something terrible blossoms in his chest. No, the little witch has no idea what her words and actions are doing to him. Someday, she might regret ever giving him her attention or drawing his.

Pushing off the side of the bed, Joker can't wipe the expression off his face, even if he wants to. This encounter wasn't anything more than a few choice words and a kiss, but it clears up everything he needs. This woman sealed her fate the moment she touched his scars tonight. Maybe he did the same. It doesn't matter. Nothing really does, because everything's just a game.

Walking towards the metal door, he slips the keycard out and cracks it open to allow a sliver of dim light from the hall into the dark room. Seeing the green eyes staring at him from the corner of the small cell, a different sensation spreads through him he was searching for the other night.

_Victory_.

Unlike the lame attempt to make the pinkette lose her mind through rage barely two days ago, this one actually is a win.

"What do you _think_?" There isn't any need to say it. They both already know what will happen. She just wants to hear it, but he won't give her the satisfaction.

Smacking his lips together, he throws the woman under the blanket one last look before disappearing through the door, leaving her in the darkness.

How _fitting_... Seeing the tiny form in the dark room, she looks like a speck of light against the black backdrop.

Reaching up to adjust the collar on Harold's uniform, dark eyes glance both ways down the hall of J-Block. The guard's voices echo from further down, still in the same spot as before. At least the men in his own block pretend like they were doing their jobs...

Gazing down at the keycard in his grasp, his smile widens, walking away from the cell, keeping his little bunny caged in. Joker feels good... Better than he has in a while. The way he did when roaming the streets of Gotham while Batman chased him so desperately. After weeks of this mundane setting and sorry attempts of abuse, it's like life is breathing back into him. His fists tighten with the energy coursing through him, feeling more alive than he has in months.

Yes, this feels great, and it's still early. At least by _his_ standards... The little date with his pink-haired doll churned out better results than expected, but there's still pent-up energy that needs to come out. Instead of taking it out on her body as he desires, Joker will have to settle with shaking up the asylum a bit.

After all, the guards are becoming a little too _complacent_. It wouldn't be fair if they don't have to work for their money as everyone else does, right?


	16. The Killing Joke

C-block...

"Heh." That seems like a marvelous place to start.

Joker just finds it funny. Can't help himself. _Not really_...

It's surprising how lax the security became in the past few years, ever since good ol' Amy went bonkers and the entire asylum went under. If there was ever a time the clown wanted to be in Arkham, it's definitely that moment... To see Amadeus completely lose his shit. The man was barely hanging on a rusty hinge and any moron who wasn't completely doped up or comatose could see it. How or why the staff let it go that far is anyone's guess.

_'Bunch of pansies...'_

They feared the old man…. Of how unbalanced he became and what might happen if they said anything. One wrong move and they can find themselves as new test subjects. Staff and inmates alike. At a point, it didn't seem like Amy could tell the difference anymore.

If the clown was there when the riot broke out, he would've found Amadeus and strapped him to a gurney. Give him a taste of the electrodes he became _too_ fond of... Believing the only way to "cure" his patients are to strip them of their memories and personalities, leaving them as a blank slate to mold into a "proper" human being... A process his nephew's also a fan of, apparently.

_'Soon as I get the chance, Jerry's getting' a nice helping...'_

Seeing the security camera on the wall, his lips curl up into a large toothy grin as he waves. No one will see it, anyway... Not until it's too late and the guards realize how foolish they really are.

"Hahaha..." Striding down the halls of C-block, it's just as dark and quiet as he remembers. Things aren't too lively, until hitting D or J. The inmates are placed in different blocks depending on their crimes, mental stability, or behavior.

The asylum used to be separated by gender, but that went out the door with Amadeus' corpse. F-H still isn't habitable ever since Poison Ivy released toxic spores throughout the halls after the woman's ward broke out. One guard she was seducing, stupidly brought her in a seemingly harmless gift, not realizing he might as well have handed her a gun. That section is completely blocked off from the rest of the building after workers dropped dead trying to clean the area. Apparently even the hazmat team hauled ass when the spores started eating their suits.

The guards in A-C have hourly rounds during the nights unless there's some commotion. By the clown's calculations, there should be another 35 minutes until they leave their stations. That's more than enough time to make his own rounds.

Pulling out the retractable keycard from Harold's breast pocket, he hums a little tune, twirling the nightstick around in his hand the guards so generously left in his cell. Not that they had a choice, but that doesn't matter. Might as well complete the ensemble, right? He has to go through D-block to get to C anyway on the way back from his rendezvous with a certain mad witch.

It's a _good_ night. Maybe the best since coming into this goddamn place.

Harold and Jerry are on a permanent leave of absence, he's raring to cause a little trouble for the other guards, and Christmas is right around the corner. One of his favorite holidays, but it appears his present came a bit early. A _sweet_ little pink bunny for him to keep, even if pets aren't allowed in the asylum. He's never really been one to follow the rules to begin with anyway...

Turning a sharp corner, Joker rears back after noticing a figure standing in the hall. A guard... Shifting his jaw, he leans up against the wall, waiting to see what's happening. The man should be at his station and if there's a problem that calls for security, there'd be more than one, and they sure as hell wouldn't be standing there. By the lax stance, no weapon visible, and fingers deftly fixing the collar of his uniform, it's clear something else is going on.

_'That makes this a social visit...'_

His ears perk up at the voices filtering down the hall. It doesn't take much to take a guard out, but then his cover will be blown if whoever's in the cell sees him. That'll ruin some of the fun... At least for what he has in mind for now.

"You're always such a dear, Sean. What would a girl do without ya?!" A shrill feminine chuckle causes him to wince, knowing that laugh from anywhere. It's almost as obnoxious as his and that's saying a lot.

"Shh! You're always so loud..."

"Dick! Never minded _before_... Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway, I guess." That woman's still up to the same shit in lock-up. She always finds a sucker to seduce to get her fix.

_'Magpie... Can't believe no one cut out that goddamn voice box yet.'_

"Just put that away. I gotta go back. Don't want anyone to notice I'm gone too long... See you later." The male voice sounds uncomfortable. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Magpie's been in Arkham one of the many times the clown was here and he always had a knack for seeing and hearing more than he should.

"Bye, hot stuff! _Come_ again soon, hehe. Always good doin' business with ya!" The skank has an all-consuming obsession with shiny objects. Before getting arrested, she was known for stealing jewels named after birds and replacing them with replicas... Ones that have plenty of surprises in store for the unsuspecting.

Joker can appreciate a good surprise, especially a cleverly placed one made from a craftsman's own hands. The woman's on the loose side, but he has to admit... she has flair. Just to get her fix on shiny objects during incarceration, there are always guards or cops willing to trade seemingly mundane objects for sex with the crazy redhead.

Peeking around the corner, the guard quickly strides down the hall with his head low, fixing his belt. The urge to laugh was itching its way up... The clown knows _that_ walk. Head down, back of the neck beet red, shoulders hunched, the awkward positioning of the legs and feet... It's the walk of _shame_.

_'Heheh... Don't do it if ya can't keep your head up, buddy!'_

Joker will remember that face and commit the name to memory. Any bit of information is useful, especially in a place like this. A person never knows when they might have to call in a favor or need a trump card when dealing with unruly guards.

When the man's out of sight, Joker rounds the corner, knowing exactly where he has to go. On the way up to D-block during the transfer, he made several mental notes of who's here and where. His part isn't much tonight. After all, what he does best is getting other people to do the work for him and dig their own graves. The stage isn't set properly to do what he really wants... Especially now that he has something else to look forward to.

This is all a game. Just to test the waters out and cause a panic among the staff and show them how ill-equipped at their jobs they are. That and to get under Jerry's skin, to disrupt the perfect control that fool believes he has over the asylum. Nothing will drive the old man to the brink like watching his set-up falling apart. Men like him can't handle things not going 'according to plan' and lose their shit when realizing their perfectly manicured system's not working as they thought.

"Hahaha!" If only he can see that prick's face when he finds out... That'll be a hoot and a half.

Shuffling down the empty hall, the lighting's nice and dim as always. That makes this all more perfect. Snaking his tongue out to prod the cracked skin his scar, the clown runs his fingers through the dirty blonde mess on his head, trying to slick it back the best he can. Not that he ever cares. His hair always seems to have a mind of its own. No amount of fretting or product will change that. Just like his personality...

Most of the inmates are fast asleep. It's around two in the morning by now and the guards always like to wake everyone nice and early. If they can't sleep in, why should anyone else?

Peering into the glass of the cells as he walks by, Joker straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back where they belong. One thing he's always good at is playing the part when the situation calls for it.

_'0628...'_

A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth to match the permanent one he was given years ago. This is the perfect person to get this going. Dumb and gullible enough to believe anything he says. Listens enough to at least get the next two steps taken care of until someone more capable takes over.

The _extremely_ large man's sleeping soundly in the small bed that's close to collapsing from the significant weight pushing it down. The metal legs themselves look like they want to cry out, threatening to give way if they aren't granted any mercy from the abuse they're taking from the morbidly obese lump.

_'Christ... I think he's gotten bigger since the last time I saw him. What the hell are they feeding this guy? Other inmates?'_

Taking the keycard between his fingers, he yanks on the retractable cord to press it against the control pad, listening for the beep when it opens. Dark eyes flickered both ways, making sure none of the other patients are near their glass doors as he steps in. Doesn't need anyone that might recognize him getting involved. That'll suck the fun out of this. Aside from his scars, most probably wouldn't realize who he is without the greasepaint and green hair anyway... but the disfigurement's a _dead_ giveaway.

Striding over towards the bed, the clown's brow furrows at the objects scattered across the floor and lying on top of the covers. Dolls... Some still together, most in pieces and others rearranged in odd ways. The parts are strewn all around the sleeping giant like he fell asleep part-way through his work.

_'Hmm... Some things really don't change, do they?'_

Humphry Dumpler, or 'Humpty Dumpty', is a strange guy... One with an uncontrollable urge to 'fix' things by taking objects apart or putting them back together that he considers _broken_.

Unlike many of the inmates, Humpty is someone who behaves and doesn't cause too much trouble... He has a childlike mentality and the mannerisms of a polite man. Easy to manipulate and outwit, which is one of the many reasons Jerry enjoys using him to gain information without the lump ever realizing it. The oddly proportioned man just assumes the luxuries he's afforded are from "being a good boy".

Aside from being dim-witted, he has an _enormous_ body and ridiculous strength. If the moron had a brain in that colossal head, he might've been a threat. Most of the crimes he commits are done in his effort to fix things, not out of malicious intent like everyone else in the asylum.

_'Well, maybe not his sweet, old granny... Hahaha!'_

Humpty literally took apart his abusive grandmother, dismembering the old woman in an attempt to "fix" her. The police found her body reassembled in a grotesque position, laced together with shoestring. The funny part is that they lived in an old cobbler shop that repairs shoes.

"Heh." Joker heard the story before. It doesn't take much for ol' Humpty to tell it. The old lady used to beat him with a stick, pressuring him to learn how to fix shoes for years, only for her grandson to try "repairing" her. Stringing the gal up like the pairs he was forced to work on.

_'Gotta love the irony... I always live for a good joke.'_

Stepping over _and_ on the array of parts over the cold floor, the clown has the nightstick out and ready, just in case the big guy decides he needs to be fixed as well.

"Get ya stinkin' foot off me, damn clown!" Joker scowls, glancing towards the voice coming from beneath his foot. "Aye, asshole! Who ya think yer steppin' on!"

"Ha. Ha. _Ha_. Whatcha doin' down there? Looks like Humpty here, ah, did a number on you. _Hmm?_ Scabface?" Laughing maniacally, he takes his foot off of the dummy on the floor. The dark pits in his sockets light up at the ragged state the doll's in from the lumps ministrations, enjoying how one of the big 'drug lords' of Gotham is reduced to a plaything for fun.

"Shaddup! It's Scarface! _Scar_-face! Who ya think yer talkin' to, bastard?"

Crouching down, Joker cocks his head to the side and narrows his gaze on _The Ventriloquist's_ puppet with a wide grin. "Isn't Arny lookin' for ya? It'd be such a _shame_ if your head went missing... Maybe accidentally fell into the trash? The same one that goes out in the morning? _Hmm?_ Even Junkyard Dog won't have enough time to dig ya out..." Pumping his eyebrows, the clown swipes his tongue over the cracked skin starting to get dry.

"Tch." That's the only response from the 'scary' doll. What a motley crew stuffed into one cell. A possessed doll, killer clown, and a mountain of flesh dumber than a pile of shit.

Letting out a chuckle, the clown stans up when he doesn't hear any more from the doll lying on the floor. Everyone knows the Joker doesn't make idle threats and he has no problem executing them. Occasionally, people need to be reminded of that fact when they become too ballsy. Being locked away can do that to someone if they're not careful.

Stepping over the silent doll, Joker walks towards the bed on its last legs. Taking the nightstick into the palm of his hand, he reaches out to prod the side of the morbidly obese man snoring loudly.

"C'mon, big guy. _Get your fat ass up."_ Not getting even a movement or slight reaction from the lump, irritation starting boiling up as the vein in his forehead pulses. It's always _these_ guys that have to be heavy sleepers... Can't even be a skinny one the clown push out of with a flick of his wrist. Nope. It has to be a fat-ass that he'd need heavy machinery to move.

_'Heh.'_

Pulling his arm back, he smashes the stick against the side of Humpty's head without holding back. The bald man bolts upright in bed, staring around wildly as he puts a meaty paw against the tender spot.

"Wha-what's going on?" Beady eyes look the clown up and down. His jaw drops the moment they land on the guard's uniform. A malicious smile widens at the reaction. "Oh, snips and snails and puppy dog tails! What have I done, I haven't tried to run. Why is a cop knocking me on the top?"

"Hahaha!" One thing the Joker can appreciate about this dimwit is his knack for talking in rhymes. The eccentric personalities in this building bring some entertainment here and there.

"Has Dr. Arkham sent you? Even after all we've been through... I guess this is nothing new." Rubbing his head, Humpty tears his gaze away to pick up some pieces lying on the covers, getting ready to continue where he left off.

_'Christ... I guess he can't make out the scars in the dark lighting. Just as I hoped...'_

"That's right, Mr. Dumpler. We have a job for you. Need you to _fix_ something for us." Seeing the man's eyes light up at the word, Joker knows this is going to be easy, as predicted. Such a sucker for anything that might need to be worked on.

"Who are you? I don't recognize you from the block. You come in here and don't even knock." There's a hint of confusion in his voice, yet no suspicion. With the uniform, he doesn't doubt the clown's part of the staff but wants to know who he is. The guards are often assigned to a specific block and work there for a time. Some switch, others don't.

"Of course, you _wouldn't_ recognize me. I'm Harold, one of the guards who work in D-block. Dr. Arkham sent me to give you a job because he trusts _you_ to do it. You're such a, ah, _model_ patient, after all. Has a bunch of little things he wants you to put back together if you listen to his instructions and do what you're told." Moving his hands around and talking animatedly, he has the man's full attention now, despite the drowsiness. One quick smack to the head and a mention of what drives his OCD, then they're off to the races.

Looking down and snatching the keycard, Joker takes it off the retractable cord attached to the uniform and tosses it onto the covers in front of the man.

"A guard is giving Humphry a card? Oh! I have been good, just like I told them I would!" Pudgy fingers pick up the plastic key that unlocks the cells, lifting it up with a smile on his face.

_"That's right_... but you _have_ to do as your told. Otherwise, you won't get any more things to _'fix'_. Got it?" Humpty shakes his head feverishly, practically foaming at the mouth at the idea of being given more trinkets to work on.

"_Good_. Now... After I leave, you need to use that card to get your, ah, _buddy_ Shark out next door. 'Kay? Make sure you do it _right away_. After that, let out the two patients in the cells beside him. That's all you need to do. When you're done with that, just do whatever Shark says. You guys are _great_ friends, right?" The clown nods along with the bald man, hoping he's able to at least retain the first two steps. As long as he lets White out, things will take care of themselves.

There's a reason Joker went to Humpty instead of straight for fish-face next door. Yeah, Shark will gladly take the cards and start shit throughout the building, but if anything goes wrong now or down the road, he knows who did this. The whole point is to dirty Harold's name and lard-ass here can't tell the difference between him and the buffoon. It's insulting, but whatever. That's doesn't matter much at the moment, as long as he does his job. The staff expects the clown to pull some shit, and he is, all while staying clear of the blame. No one will point their fingers at him if everything goes as planned. It'll be a front-row seat to a shit-show while everyone else deals with the repercussions. The guilty will be punished and those that 'behaved' get rewarded with more leeway and favors. He knows how the system in here works and will play it to his advantage. Sweet Harley will be beside herself when she finds out he's being a 'good boy'.

_'Stupid bitch.'_

"Understood, sir. I'll do what you say I should. The mark is Shark, my good buddy ol' pal. He's my friend. For him, my hand I'll lend." Rubbing the card between his hands, there's a look of excitement on his face. Anyone who pays attention to the comings and goings of the asylum knows that Warren White, "The Great White Shark" is the lump's boss among the inmates and will do whatever he says.

Just another reason Jerry tries digging his claws into him, especially after losing his 401k to White's fraudulent activities as a businessman that landed him in the asylum in the first place. Instead of going to Blackgate and serving time, the billionaire paid off anyone to prove him "insane" and have him sent to a mental health facility, thinking it'll bring him more luxuries and less time... And that he'd quickly be out.

The judge was furious, knowing it's all a shame and had him committed indefinitely at Arkham. Within a few months, a perfectly sane business tycoon was reduced to the level of madness that afflicts the other prisoners. After being tortured and tormented endlessly, Warren White transformed into 'The Great White Shark', a shadow of his former self with several facial deformities.

_'Seems to go around like the flu.'_

"Great. You're such a _wonderful_ patient, Mr. Dumpler. I bet Shark can't wait to see you. Don't make him wait! I'll be leaving now. Don't forget our deal if you want more _toys_."

"Yes, Mr. Harold sir."

Grinning ear-to-ear, he pats Humpty on the shoulder before turning away. Stepping _over_ the parts on the floor instead of _on_ this time since the big guy's up. There's no need to make him freak out and forget his instructions if he sees his precious pieces crushed. Not being able to put everything back together will cause the lump to break down, and that just won't do_... for now_.

Leaving the cell and scurrying down the hall, there are still a few more things that need to be done before he can relax and watch the performance unfold. Glancing back, a malicious grin curls his lips from seeing the bumbling figure stepping out from behind the glass with the keycard in hand and heading over to the next cell.

Yes, this is fine for now. The best part of it all is that Harold's name is all tied up into it. Even after death, that scum won't get a reprieve. He deserves it for all the shit he pulled and taking advantage of his position.

Beating and trying to humiliate him, throwing his food out, abusing the inmates for shits and giggles, using the _witch_ needing a shower to get his rocks off, and just being an overall _asshole_. Joker never really needs a reason to get rid of someone, but having one makes it all more enjoyable...

Now to head back to D-block...

* * *

"Hey, check out this new app. You can literally flip through chick's pics just by swiping left or right." Waving the cell phone in the air to show the man sitting at the desk, Doug narrows his eyes when he doesn't get a response.

"You're a dick, Jay. All you do is doodle on the timesheets. You're gonna get yelled at by Cash again..."

"Like I _care_... All that guy does is bitch. He's getting old. Don't know how someone can be a guard with a hook for a hand. Can't even grab an inmate properly." Dragging teeth over his bottom lip, the blonde-haired guard adds a finishing touch to his new piece. A crude drawing of the head of security running from an exaggerated image of Croc with an arm between his jaws.

"Hahah! Whatcha think?" Holding up the paper to his buddy standing there on his phone, he chuckles at the horrified expression his art draws out.

"Are you crazy?! You better throw that out! If Cash sees it, he might really kill you this time..." Clicking out of the apps, Doug quickly slides the phone into his pocket, taking a seat next to the other guard. "No wonder you're always on his bad side... Especially with shit like _this_."

"Tch. It's harmless. Just a drawin'. I'm not the one who did it. It's just a little fun, right? Not like there's much else to do at night. Everyone's knocked out and we only have rounds every so often. This is why I hate night shift..." Nodding to himself, he chews on the tip of his pen and glances at the clock. There's still 15 minutes until the next round. It seems pointless since nothing really happens in this block. Not like in D or J... At least up there, it's a little more exciting.

"Yeah, yeah... All just a big joke, right? Doubt Cash would see it that way." Doug sighs, kicking his boots up on top of the desk. Leaning back in the chair, he yawns and pats his mouth, feeling drained from sitting there with nothing to do.

"We like jokes, Doug. How 'bout ya tell us one?"

Both men turn to stone from hearing the deep voice behind them, followed up with a chuckle. They know that voice after hearing it every day at work.

_Shark_...

Spinning around in his chair, the guard's eyes fly open when a broad arm wraps around his coworker's neck, yanking him up into the air.

"S-Shit! How... What are you doing out of your cells?!" Before Doug can reach the taser on his side, an enormous fist knocks him off the chair and onto the floor.

_'Dammit!'_

Shark... Humpty Dumpty... Tally Man. How did they get out?

A hand grabbed the back of his head, jerking it up to make the guard look at the wide grin of the man hovering above him.

"We're here to repay our debts... and _collect_ some as well..."

* * *

It's quiet... _Too_ quiet.

_'Doesn't seem right...'_

Jeremiah rolls over on his bed, finding it difficult to fall asleep. That's no different from any other night. Usually, the reason he can't get any rest is the constant calls from the staff, alerting him to another problem going on in the asylum.

Day after day, night after night... It's taxing on the mind and body to take on rehabilitating the sick and deranged. _"Some will never leave",_ that's what people always say. That his patients have no hope of being cured.

They're _wrong_.

With the right amount of medication and therapy, they can save anyone. It's up to the doctor to show enough resolve to undertake such a challenge. That's the problem with the system… No one has the passion to right the wrongs in this world. They just don't have what it takes to really make a difference.

But he does.

It might be touch and go, but there are ways of reaching the patients that should be explored. Sometimes, it's necessary to get rid of the bad parts for the good ones to shine through. Once in a while, a rotten apple needs to be taken out so the rest won't spoil.

"Ugh..." Flipping the pillow over to lay his head down against the cool side, the doctor just can't find a comfortable position to allow him to drift off. That his phone hasn't rung once in the last few hours is setting his nerves on edge.

_'Perhaps, I'm just being paranoid. Things have been going well lately, according to the guards. Maybe I just need to have a little more faith. If something happened, they would call right away..'_

Raking a hand over his face, Jeremiah flips over onto his back, opting to stare at the ceiling instead. Sleep's not coming anytime soon. The one night when no one bothers him and he can't get even a wink of sleep. How ironic...

**_"Sir, Croc dragged the new guy into his cell with him. We can't pry his jaws apart!"_**

**_"I swear The Riddler was right 'there', doing his work detail... I turned away for one second and now he's gone!"_**

**_"Doodlebug stole the condiments from the cafeteria again, sir... His entire cell is covered in mustard and ketchup. We tried cleaning it up, but there's something he mixed in that's staining the walls. This is why we should do meals like in D and J-block. These animals can't control themselves."_**

**_"Oh my God! The Joker got into the cleaning supplies cabinet! He's going to kill us all!"_**

Every day it's the same thing, but always something different. Another issue, another problem. If things will finally change, maybe he needs to take a vigorous approach to how the asylum runs. Bring extra people in and switch it up.

Groaning, the older man sits up in bed, reaching out to grab his glasses from the nightstand. No, this doesn't feel _right_... Something's off, he just knows it.

Turning the lamp on, the doctor grabs his phone. Taking a deep breath, he glances over at the clock, debating if he's just overreacting. Will the asylum really fall to pieces while he's not there?

_Perhaps_.

Shaking his head, the tired head of Arkham looks down as he dials the number, no longer hesitating. If everything's fine, he can lie down and try to get some rest with a clear mind. That way there won't be anything to worry about if he jumped the gun. It's better to be a little paranoid than to have everything fall apart now of all times.

Holding the phone to his ear, it rings and rings as his fingers grip it tightly. Someone should be at the desk to answer right away. Hanging up, he tries again. If one of the staff left the station unattended to go to the bathroom or some other trivial matter, everyone will hear it.

Pursing his lips together, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose when it starts sliding down. No, he can't panic now. Times like this are when calm and collectiveness are _essential_. If something happened, he needs to keep it together to handle the situation properly.

Taking another deep breath, he dials the number again.

_Nothing_.

Bolting up, the doctor slips his feet into the shoes lying neatly on the floor beside the bed. If no one will answer, then he'll just have to go there himself and see what's going on.

First things first, he needs to call Cash.

* * *

"What did I do? Is this place starting to get to me?"

Sakura kicks her legs around under the sheet the clown tossed over her before he left, feeling more confused than she has in years. This is completely unbelievable, and she doesn't know what succubus took over her body at that moment.

_'What the hell possessed me to kiss him?'_

It wasn't planned... At least on her end. There was no doubt in the pinkette's mind the Joker would seek her out. That's a fact. Obviously, it wouldn't have been the first night. That just wasn't happening. It would've been too reckless, even for him, especially not knowing what state of mind she's in. Giving her time to cool off was his best bet to avoid being throttled.

_'Well... In this world, they say you're supposed to wait two days to call back. Otherwise, you look desperate...'_

Sakura predicted he'd come within the first couple of nights. It was only a matter of time after the guards removed her from D-block, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts. Someone who enjoys others' suffering and seeing the results of their plans wouldn't be able to sit still without knowing the effect his actions have on the "victim".

It's not only that, and she knows it. The clown missed her, even if he's a stubborn asshole that refuses to admit it. He enjoys the company of someone he can talk to on a level playing field. Another soul who can decipher his incessant ramblings and ideals. There wasn't any need for him to put on that stupid mask he wears with the others, like Harleen. There's no manipulating the pinkette, so they can speak more straightforward... Aside from the snide comments and games they play. Even with the theatrics, there's still an understanding and somewhat mutual respect for each other's craft and ability.

With Harleen, the clown's just leading her along and always having the upper hand while the blonde follows behind him. Even if she hasn't realized it yet. Sakura saw it during a few occasions when the doctor came to 'check-up' on her favorite patient. She paid the pinkette no mind, despite the fact she's _also_ her patient. No matter what the foolish woman does, she'll never really gain the Joker's respect because he only sees her as another toy he'll break after she's no longer useful.

Part of the pinkette would've felt sorry for Harleen a few years ago. Those kinds of emotions are useless anymore, especially when the person doesn't care that they're digging their own hole. There's no way she can't see the tricks and games the clown's playing... Just watching it is enough to make anyone barf.

_'And that's why he came to me...'_

Unlike the blonde, Sakura isn't a fool with killers. For years she was trained in the academy and on the field to handle them. She won't fall for some cheesy lines or lame nicknames. Joker understands now that the pinkette isn't someone to trifle with, can't be manipulated or bullied into doing anything she doesn't want. She's able to counter and surprise him at every turn while doing things he doesn't expect. That's what makes this interesting.

_'I do shit that surprises even myself...'_

Joker believes in himself so _thoroughly_ that he's capable of having some pull over her. That he can control her for his own whims and dig his claws in deep. All because it's easier to convince himself that he wants to manipulate and use her for some master scheme instead of just wanting company. It's _almost_ funny how stubborn that man can be...

He kissed her back... That wasn't shocking, to be honest. Sakura knew he would as soon as she did it. Well, when he finally got over himself. This isn't something that usually happens... _like ever_. Not even with Sasuke.

Touching other people aside from hitting or healing them just isn't anything that's felt comfortable for years now. In the asylum it's inevitable to be touched by either the guards or nurses. That just comes with the territory. The only willing contact that's happened in the last three years has to be with the damn clown.

_'Just my luck…'_

Furrowing her brow as she stares up at the dark ceiling, Sakura knows she's playing a dangerous game. Then again, it's entertaining... At the very least, it'll be best to see how things play out.

It's a shame Harold was killed since he's quite useful. He was one of the few guards that gave her the privacy she needs in the shower room, without being threatened. Not only that, but he brings stuff to keep her busy, like books and newspapers. Going without that isn't a big deal, but now she has to find other things to preoccupy the endless time stretching ahead of her.

_'Back to square one...'_

There's no doubt in her mind that Joker would kill him, especially after all the things he's done. If it was her on the receiving end, she would've beat the guard to death a while ago.

"What?" Turning her head to the side, she sucks in her bottom lip, looking from one direction to the other. Something feels... _off_. The usual murderous intent in the asylum seems different. More rampant. _Chaotic_...

_'What's going on out there?'_

It's spreading and increasing at an alarming rate, like a poisonous smog diffusing throughout the air. The pinkette's senses are keen for that, knowing it can be the difference between life and death in a place like this.

Is it too much of a coincidence that Joker came to visit her and in less than thirty minutes, the place is crawling with bloodlust more than usual? No way... He must have done something, but it's not coming from him. She can recognize the clown's deadly aura from anywhere, especially after sitting across from it consistently for the last few weeks. It's resonating from other inmates, maybe even some guards as well.

_'There's no way he has nothing to do with this, especially since he has multiple key cards now... What did he do, hand them out?'_

A scream from down the hallway draws her green eyes towards the door. Whatever's going on is trailing all the way to J-block... People are dying at this very moment. She can feel it as their auras spike, then disappear.

Focusing hard and closing her eyes, Sakura can sense what's going on outside. Around the corner, they quickly killed two of the guards at the station. Whoever's out there is fast, stopping at a different cell on their path down the hall.

_'They let Someone else out... Who is it? Ah... I know.'_

A bang from right in front of her cell causes the pinkette to open her eyes. The person who was just released is outside of her door...

_'They want to play, huh?'_

Sakura's arms are restrained by a straightjacket with the gloves disrupting her chakra still on... Not to mention she's tired. None of that matters. If someone wants to come and interrupt her private time musing about the night, then whatever happens to them is their own damn fault.

Hearing the beep from the control pad outside, she sits up with a groan. Tonight, she really doesn't feel like dealing with this shit and just wants to enjoy the little victory from earlier. Like always, someone has to come and ruin _everything_.

_'I'm gonna kill that clown next time I get my hands on him.'_


	17. Roulette

**A/N:** Before you guys burn me at the stake, I'm sorry! I wrote so much on some chapters, I needed to break it up. I'll have a new chapter for this out by tomorrow or the next, so hang in there and thanks for being patient. If you haven't reread this story in the last few days, now's a good time, since I've added/changed some details.

* * *

It's your turn again, Dougie boy..."

Sweat trailed down the side of the guards face, running along his chin and dripping onto the front of the once pristine uniform. It was already soaked...like someone had carelessly tripped and spilt their drink all over him.

It was hard to breathe anymore... The lump that had formed grew in size with every passing dreadful moment, slowly cutting off the passage of his airway. It almost felt as if the white haired maniac sitting across from him was coiling those disgustingly long fingers around his throat, gradually increasing the pressure as he strangled him to death...Taking his sweet time and dragging out the inevitable, enjoying and thriving off of every second of torture he was able to inflict...

"Well?" Tally Man's wide pointed smile and crazed red eyes were enough to make someone's blood run cold on their own...but it was the things he did that truly made him a monster among men.

"Hey, what're you waiting for? We don't have all night... Well actually, I guess we do. Hahaha!" Shark leaned forward over Doug, slapping his hands onto each side of his shoulders. Wincing at the harsh grip, the guard let out a shuddered breath. He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of doing what they said or not doing it all. Either way, he was royally screwed...

Swallowing hard, Doug gave a side glance towards the chair next to him. It was occupied by the morbidly obese Humpty, who was sitting there quietly trying to piece back together Jay's drawing that Shark had torn to pieces.

"I think this is of Mr. Cash..." The large man smiled, licking his thin lips as he held a piece of the shredded paper between his pudgy fingers, finding the spot the part belonged to.

"W-Why are you doing this? It's not like we treated you guys bad or anything!" This wasn't right, none of it was.

Glancing down towards the boots planted on the floor, the guard trembled closing his eyes tightly as blood pooled beneath the chair. He couldn't look... Seeing the blonde's wide-eyed face would forever be etched into the back of his mind. The terror stricken expression, the bullet hole in his skull and burn marks around it from when the trigger had been pulled...

When the two inmates had given them an offer between dying or playing a game, the guards knew both options went hand in hand. None of them played "games" that didn't involve someone getting killed or maimed.

"Tell that to the singe marks on my temples! I'm just here to collect your debts... Burns for burns!" Leaning forward, close enough the hitman's hot breath washed over the brunette's prickling skin, Tally Man let out a loud cackle, sending shivers down his spine.

"You wanna know why I'm doing this?" Nudging the gun between them closer with a long pale finger, the grip tightened on Doug's shoulder, pushing his chest roughly into the side of the desk. "It's because I enjoy seeing your fear...Tasting your agony... Watching the life leave a person's eyes as their pupils get so tiny, all you can see is the whites in them... Hahaha! Isn't that right, Shark?"

The disfigured man above Doug smiled manically, baring the sharp teeth that had been filed to resemble a sharks and breathing hard where his nose used to be. To think that he used to look like a normal human being...It was hard to believe. After being locked in Mr. Freeze's old cell by Jane Doe, his hair, nose, and skin had gotten frost bite and broke off...leaving the once sane wealthy business man into a broken shell of his former self. That's when the insanity set in...when there's nowhere else to turn, it creeps up and swallows its victims whole.

Body and soul.

"You bet...Now hurry up and take the gun or I'll just unload the rest right into your head. At least if you play along, there's a chance Tally here will bite the bullet instead of you."

Shaking like a leaf, Doug slowly reached forward, using every will left in him not to shed a tear. Not to give these psychos the satisfaction of seeing how truly scared he was... This wasn't how anyone should go out. Playing Russian Roulette with men who loved to drink in others pain, got off on it.

_'I...don't want to die...'_

Clasping his hand around the gun, the brunette's fingers trembled as he pulled his arm back. The only thing stopping him from just firing at the man across from him was the weapon that was pointing at the back of his head. Shark raised it every time it was his turn, ensuring a "fair" game between them. The only thing he could hope for was that the single bullet in the chamber would be meant for the white haired sadist smiling at him. Even then, would that stop the gun behind him from firing as well?

Placing the weapon against his temple, Doug sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to think about how it looked when the bullet pierced Jay's skull...how the blood splattered everywhere. The desk, the floor, on him... Maybe it would be better this way. If it was quick, they wouldn't have more time to come up with something even more terrible to do to him.

Heart pounding to a deafening rhythm in his chest, it was almost loud enough to block out the men's laughter...almost. This wasn't the last thing he wanted to hear if this was it. Hopefully the blast would drown them out.

Closing his eyes and wrapping an index finger around the trigger, the brunette repeated a small prayer he's done about half a dozen times already tonight.

_'God, please just let it be quick...painless if you really are listening...'_

Bang.

* * *

Hearing the beep coming from outside of the cell, Sakura sat up quickly in bed. This aura was familiar, knew exactly who it belonged to. Dark, full of lust and anger...

Closing her eyes, the pinkette tried to clear her mind, concentrating to control the chakra that was being disrupted. It was mind over matter. Taking in a deep breath and sending the flow to her arms, a hiss left her lips as she flexed the muscles tight against the restraints. This wouldn't be any fun like this. Even being much stronger than the man at the door, why should there be any handicap if he has enough balls to come here?

The thick sleeves and jacket were being pushed beyond its limits, created in mind to resist the frantic clawing and flailing a human was capable of in a frantic frenzy. It didn't take much for the buckles and straps to pop off and give way under the force, a metal piece from the back shot off and ricocheted against the wall. In seconds, the straight jacket tore down the middle, using the strength her talents had granted to free herself.

_'He's coming in...'_

Grabbing the shiny fabric clinging to the pale skin along her wrists, Sakura yanked on them hard, not caring any longer about keeping up appearances for the staff. If they weren't able to keep up their end and keep anyone safe, what did it matter if she didn't? The gloves could always be put back on later, but the straight jacket...an excuse already formed in the back of her head for that.

Peeling the gloves from her dainty hands, the pinkette quickly shoved them in the pocket of the orange jumpsuit for later. A smile tugged at the corners of her pink lips, feeling the flow of chakra stabilize, spreading throughout the channels without disruption.

Rolling her wrists around, the door slowly opened, a sliver of light from the hall breaking into the dark cell. A grimace passed over the pretty features of her face, annoyed at the intrusion. It wasn't the clown, but the man on the other side would pay dearly for the interruption. After that...

_'I'm going to kick his ass...This is all his fault, I just know it.'_

Standing up on the small bed, Sakura looked up towards the ceiling as an idea formed. If someone wanted to try to pull a fast one on a woman who was sleeping, they would get just what they deserved. This man was a complete pig anyway...

_'Haven't done this in a while...'_

Jumping high up off the bed, she sent chakra to the soles of her feet as they hit the ceiling, gluing the pinkette to the smooth surface. No one would expect someone to be hanging upside down like this, giving the element of surprise. A grin spread across the kunoichi's lips as they curled up, crouching down and silently padding across the short expanse of the room.

Looking down with a groan, Sakura realized how much her hair had grown since being in the asylum. Even back in Konoha, it never reached even close to this length. It would have just gotten in the way during missions and been an unnecessary hassle...

With a huff, she grabbed ahold of the long pink strands hanging down, trying to tuck it into the back of the jumpsuit. No reason to give anyone a chance at yanking it or to notice before making a move. Shuffling into the corner behind the entrance, the shadows swallowed her up as the man pushed the door all the way open, lighting up part of the dark, dingy cell.

A large tan hulking figure with long black braids peeked in, looking towards the bed that had been occupied. A confused look spread across his face, eyes narrowing trying to make out the small mound on the mattress. It was just the pillow shoved under a sheet, done in haste.

_'It's Moxley...Fucking dirtbag.'_

This man had been committed to the asylum for the disgustingly violent murders of young women throughout Gotham. Beating and raping the girls after torturing them for days, just to dismember the victims and keep them beneath the crawl space under his home. It was assumed from how gruesome the acts were, that there was no way this man was sane and he'd been sent to Arkham after a stint in Blackgate.

Harold had talked about him before during one of their many conversations. It was a great way of knowing who and what was in this building. The guard never held back, feeding all kinds of information as he ranted and complained about bringing in the transfers from the infamous prison.

_'Does he think he can get me? Hahaha! What a moron...'_

Placing dainty hands against the ceiling as Moxley walked towards the bed, she pushed off the surface to lunge at the killer, to take him by surprise.

As he reached the end of the bed, a leg swung at his thick neck, sending him flying against the wall of the cell.

"Argh!" The body smashed its to surface, cracking the wall as the man fell to the ground in a limp heap, smacking his face on the floor.

"Hahaha! Still got it!" Landing onto her feet gracefully, the pinkette let a sneer play across her face, eyeing up the large indent left behind from the force of the kick. That's exactly what that bastard gets for thinking he can break into her cell and do God knows what. From the bloodlust practically seeping through his pores, not to mention the things he's said before when passing in the hallway with the guards... There was no doubt he was going to try raping and tearing her apart.

No way in hell that was going to happen... If someone was going to kill her, it would have been easier to let the clown do it. At least he wouldn't degrade her in such a disgusting way before ending it.

"Oh man..." Staring at the huge cracks in the wall, it just dawned on her that she was going to have to explain to the staff what happened. Would they buy it if she said it was just from a kick and not from taking the gloves off? The first part was actually true...

A large hand wrapped around her ankle as the man grunted on the floor, blood trickling down his furious face from the hit that split his thick skin. Gritting his teeth with an angry fire in those large dark eyes, nails bit into the soft pale flesh they dug into.

"I wouldn't do _that_ if I were you..." Looking down at the large figure glaring, a bored expression passed across her pretty face as she let out a drawn out sigh, sending the man reeling. These people never learn... It doesn't matter how big or muscular a body is, that doesn't mean anything. If anything, the greater the mass and weight, the slower they really are. People in this world didn't have chakra to overcome that problem and this man wasn't a meta human either. Just an oversized, lust-driven murderer who enjoys torturing weak and defenseless women...

_'Unfortunately for him, I'm neither...'_

"You little bitch!" Growling out, Moxley squeezed her ankle in a crushing grip, knocking the small woman off balance as he jumped up. Using all the strength in his large body as the enormous muscles flexed against the thick skin covering them, he swung her towards the wall, smashing her against it with no remorse.

"Hahaha!" Laughing as she fell to the floor, the dark haired man stalked over towards the pinkette and crouched down, black eyes dancing over the fallen form. "Tough whore, huh? You have a pretty nasty kick for something so small... At the end of the day, a woman is just a woman."

Grabbing the orange fabric against her hips, he gripped them harshly, pulling the limp body closer to him. Seeing no reaction from the woman, he assumed the force must have knocked her out. No one besides him could take a blow to the head like that.

"Mmm... You really are a beauty, ya know that? This is gonna be fun..." Licking his lips, the only thing that would have made this better would be having a knife. His hands would be enough though. After all, it's what he usually used on the spur of the moment when finding a woman he wanted to keep. Blades weren't always so easily accessible, especially in a place like this.

Reaching forward to take the zipper between his fingers at the top of the orange jumpsuit, he stopped to debate whether just ripping the fabric open with his hands or not. That might make this more exciting, like tearing into a present on Christmas Day, which was coming up soon.

"Heheh. Never thought I'd find something like this in Arkham. What a surprise..."

"You done?" Green eyes popped open as Moxley craned his neck back, brows furrowing in confusion as he hovered over the pinkette. A sneer twisted her face as a knee came up, crashing into his junk and knocking him over.

"Oh my GOD!" Screaming out at the searing pain, hands clutched his groin desperately, falling over onto the floor as a foot nudged him off of her. Black eyes wide in shock, harsh gasps forced its way from his throat as tremors racked the large body coiling up on itself.

"Hahaha! How do you like that _pervert_? Won't be using that anytime soon...Your balls might be in there stomach after that." Standing up off the floor and dusting off the front of the orange jumpsuit, Sakura cocked her head to the side as Moxley writhed on the floor. It's what he deserved for the things he's done and was about to do.

To think the moron really thought he knocked her out... It would have been hard keeping a straight face if it hadn't been practiced so many times. He was only able to grab and throw her because she let him, just to see what he would do before acting. There was no doubt that this man truly was irredeemable. A wild animal that needed to be put down, no second chances. Not that he deserved one anyway. It wasn't like he gave any of those women any mercy or a chance to survive, using his strength and large body to what whatever he pleased with them.

Crouching down next to him, she smiled sweetly as he panted, watery eyes squeezed shut tightly.

_'Dirty rapist...I should rip it off and shove it down his throat...or up his ass.'_

"You know, Moxley... If they _are_ in your stomach, I am a _medic_. I might be able to help you with that." Holding her hand up, a green glow formed around the pale skin, emanating light as he barely was able to force his eyes open at the gentle voice.

Seeing the thin fingers straighten out together as the glow moved into the shape of a blade, he started freaking out, trying to shuffle back away from her as he closed his legs around the hands guarding the damaged privates.

"No! Stay the fuck away from me you crazy bitch!" Panic stricken, he kicked against the floor, pushing away from the pinkette and dragging himself towards the wall.

Standing up and sticking her bottom lip out in a pout, Sakura's brows furrowed watching the large killer loosing the fire he had just moments ago. How easy it was to take from other people...pride, control, power. There was none of it coming from the man cowering away from her.

"I'm a crazy bitch? I was just trying to _help_... How do you expect to rape anyone with your dick like that? I know it has to hurt, doesn't it?" Green eyes narrowed as she spoke, not feeling even the slightest bit of remorse for this animal. He would have raped and killed her without a second thought, why else would he have come here? It sure as hell wasn't to let her out...

Walking towards Moxley, annoyance egged her on seeing the damage done to the wall from both of them. Now the staff was going to complain... It was all his fault. If they would have just left her alone, she would have stayed in bed contemplating what happened earlier instead of them forcing her hand.

"Unfortunately for you, I have an appointment after this and I don't want to be _late_..." Standing over the man as he screamed and held his hands up, the scalpel made of chakra came down, swiping at his neck before he could try to block it. Even if he did, all that would happen was fingers flying everywhere. Extra mess.

Black eyes widened as he clutched his throat, blood leaked through his fingers, running over his hands and neck. The top of the orange jumpsuit he wore turned dark as it soaked up the fluid.

A strangled noise came from his open mouth as more blood leaked from the sides, trailing his chin. Feet kicked frantically as his airway getting cut off, filling up and draining through the incision the medic made.

"You won't die right away... I made sure of that. You'll suffer for a little bit, not too long. Maybe just enough to contemplate the shitty things you've done to innocent people. You think because you're big and strong you can do whatever you want...but there's always someone worse." Squatting down beside him, dainty fingers danced along her chin as she snapped her fingers to get his attention.

"Isn't it hilarious? You spent your life torturing and murdering women...just to be killed by one. A small, pink haired chick at that! You're so pathetic." Reaching down the pocket of his jumpsuit as his body jerked back and forth, a grimace twisted her face even getting this close to him. Feeling the plastic, her fingers grasped the keycard and yanked it out quickly, not wanting him to get blood on her. The chances of getting a shower in the next 24 hours were pretty slim at this point.

"Hahh... Well, thanks. I'll be taking this, don't want it getting into the wrong hands." Smacking the card against her fingers, the pinkette stood up and turned away. There was no need to sit there and watch him die, it was guaranteed. If she chose to, she could have healed his neck, saved his life. Someone like that didn't deserve it. All it would do was give a monster like that another chance to hurt more people.

Without looking back, Sakura padded across the smooth floor and out the open door of her cell. What was going on in this building was utter chaos and there wasn't a single doubt about who caused it. It was in his nature...

Part of the pinkette didn't want to care, had seen more than enough to know what the people in he asylum were all about. Had been here when the riot broke out the night Amadeus died after completely losing his mind.

It just... After everything that happened in the shinobi world, part of her was tired of seeing the never ending violence and continuous death surrounding humanity. Life seemed so short as it was and people made sure it didn't reach its own end, always killing and hurting each other. Did it ever end?

_'No...never. It will never end. That's human nature, to destroy everything around it.' _This city was a cesspool of the worst side of humanity. Committing every kind of crime known to man, raping, killing, stealing, tearing everything down. There was barely any sign of nature in throughout most of what she'd seen in Gotham. No lakes or forests, nothing peaceful to sit back and enjoy. It was all large concrete buildings and "cars" spreading pollution everywhere. Nothing like in the shinobi world where nature was all around you...

_'I miss it so much... Even the air here is dirty...'_

The only thing Sakura hoped for with all her being was that there would be some way of making it back there before she lost any more of herself in this god forsaken place.

Seeing Moxley and knowing his intentions had reminded the pinkette of all she really had left of her in this world. So much felt like it had been taken away... Freedom, choices, so many emotions that just seemed to be gone or hidden away...and yet, there were still things left that she clung to desperately.

Sanity was something she couldn't afford to lose. Not in this place. If the Shinobi War, the battle against Madara and sealing Kaguya hadn't taken it, there was nothing in this dimension that could. Right?

Walking down the dimly lit hall, she could feel the havoc that was being cause throughout the building from all the way up here. All over a few keycards... It was almost funny.

_'I'm sure he thinks this is hilarious...'_

This was right up Joker's alley. Causing trouble without a single care of the consequences or what would happen after this. If he thought the shock treatments from Dr. Arkham were bad, she could only imagine what would happen if they found out he was the one behind this.

"Hahaha... He's really going to get it."

Going pass the guards station, she raised a brow seeing the blood splattered over the white surface and the handprint on the phone. Someone must have tried calling for help and couldn't...

_'Sid did this. I felt it earlier... He's the fast one.'_

"H-Help..." A quiet voice croaked from behind the counter.

Poking her head around the corner, a man was lying on the floor panting hard. The front of his uniform was soaked, chest shaking with the labored breaths he was trying to take in.

_'Come on...' _Seeing the pair of scissors protruding from his abdomen, Sakura grimaced at the sight.

_'Should I put him out of his misery?...or help him?' _The guards were terrible to the patients for the most part. The majority of them deserved half of what was going on, using their positions and the control they had to torment the inmates and do terrible things. She's seen and experienced herself on numerous occasions.

Terry, if she remembered correctly, was a newer addition to the motley crew that ran the asylum. He didn't seem as bad as a lot of the other guards. Hadn't given that lecherous look when taking her down to the shower rooms she was used to... Like John, he seemed fair and treated the inmates more like patients than punching bags.

_'He did bring me extra dessert yesterday...'_

Staring down at the man on the floor as he choked out a sob, she cocked her head to the side watching him as she internally debated what to do.

Terry's head lulled from one side to the other, dark brown hair that was usually held together in a ponytail strewn all around him, young features twisted in pain but trying to stay calm. He must have known that moving around too much would only make the blood rush out and death would come faster.

_'This feels...disgustingly nostalgic.'_

Green eyes narrowed in on the guard, an image from three years ago playing out in her mind.

A young man she knew, dying in Naruto's arms after his body had been pierced by a large wooden stake... Like so many others who fell on the battlefield. Throwing himself in front of the one's he loved and taking control of his own fate.

_'Neji... This man reminds me of him.' _There were stark differences, especially in the eyes. No one in this world would have those light eyes that looked blind, but more than anyone could ever imagine.

A lump formed in Sakura's throat as her hands shook, gripping the orange sleeves tightly between her fingers. She hated this feeling. The pinkette didn't want to be reminded of what happened. Of all the people who had died and were taken away or how powerless she felt to do anything about it. The ability she worked tirelessly over years to build had been able to prolong life, to heal the human body, but hadn't been enough to stop the violent onslaught.

"Goddammit!" Moving around the counter, she crouched down next to the man and rolled up the sleeves of her jumpsuit. She couldn't stop what had happened, but that didn't mean her efforts were useless. This person didn't deserve what happened, not like this. He wasn't a bad man...shouldn't have to die a dog's death all alone if there was something she could do about it.

Despite spending the last three years in this world and in the asylum, she'd lost quite a few things. However, they couldn't change the fact that she was a medic through and through, nor make her lose the last bit of humanity left in her.

"Shh... It's going to be okay. Try to steady your breathing..." Sending chakra through her hands and into the body on the floor, she listened as he tried to follow her directions. It was surprising that he was still conscious after what happened.

Grasping the handle of the scissors, the pinkette pulled them out fast as she raised the flow of chakra to the area to stop the bleeding before too much was lost from him lying here like this. It wouldn't take long to mend and fix the damage that had been done internally, but he would still need to rest after this.

"Listen to me, Ne-Terry...I'm going to heal you, but don't get up for a while, even if you think you feel fine. I'm going to lock you in the one of the empty cells, so try not to draw attention to yourself, okay?" Staring down at the guard, his eyes were blinking rapidly as a groan came out. It was louder than the whispered words from moments ago, which was a good sign. He would be fine, thank to her intervention.

"Y...Yeah..Thank you.." Blue eyes trailed to her face and she almost had to look away, not being able to concentrate. It was distracting and she didn't want to think of Neji anymore...or anything else from that time. It was hard...missing something you would might never see or experience again.

"Sure. Don't mention it..." A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she she felt his body stabilizing under her touch.

"Seriously though... Don't mention it or I will kill you."

* * *

"That's better. Sorry, Harry...not a, ah, big fan of wearing pig skins."

Joker grinned, pulling up the zipper of his orange jumpsuit. Despite having done it on numerous occasions, he never liked wearing uniforms from people of authority, whether it was police officers or guards. It was useful...hilarious when someone realized what was going on, but by then it was usually too late.

_'Nothing like having a good disguise...'_

Wrapping a large hand around the guard's ankle, the clown drug the body across the floor of his cell and out into the hallway. With all that's going on, no one would have the luxury of paying attention to what he was doing.

"You're lucky I put your clothes back on ya...for the most part. Hahaha!" Just to add insult to injury, Harold could have been found stark naked somewhere, humiliating the guard even further. If he didn't care about how things looked, that's exactly what would have happened. Just thinking about the mortified faces of the staff walking in on a scene like that made him chuckle.

However, Joker had different plans. If the guards were found naked or without their uniforms, that wouldn't fit in with what he was trying to do. It would be obvious what happened, especially with the trend the clown had set a while ago of impersonating personnel. Repeated patterns were boring...stagnant. Becoming predictable is when someone should realize they're losing their edge.

Nope. He refused to be predictable...

Dragging Harold behind him, the Clown Prince walked down the hall towards one of the empty cells. Whistling a circus themed tune, dark eyes glanced around as his ears perked up, hearing the screams coming from the block over.

_'Someone's having fun...'_

Normally, there would be nothing stopping him from joining in...fulfilling the urges that drove the actions that made him a "monster" from what everyone said. There were very few things set his heart ablaze like seeing the fear and panic one people's faces as he toyed with them, played his little games.

It would be expected for someone like him to tear the asylum apart, set things on fire, roam the halls while maiming or killing some of the guards... No one would believe that the inmates had gotten out and the Joker didn't either orchestrate the break out or was a part of it.

He refused to be predictable... Even if it was partially true that it was his doing. Unless someone saw him or they had it on camera, there was no proof. That wouldn't happen, he made sure of that.

This wasn't his night. Nope... That wasn't here just yet. After all, this was just a little game to shake things up, see how the staff and head reacted in response. There was still so much more to be done before that happens and new ideas were popping in his head everyday.

Now the Joker had a new project he needed to work on and that involved staying longer than intended. If he left now, it would be a missed opportunity of a lifetime.

_'The witch...'_

Walking out of the asylum would be a piece of cake at the moment, with the guards having their hands full of the chaos going on in the other blocks. He could easily slip out, especially when wearing Harold's uniform earlier. Problem was...if he left now, there was no doubt it would be empty handed. Even if he left with what he originally came for, now it would feel the same as gaining nothing at this point.

"Tch." Yanking the body into the open cell, the man who had been occupying it was long gone now. It didn't matter where he was currently, the guards would have him back in here in no time.

Tossing Harold onto the floor, the clown used his foot to kick him under the small bed, carefully hidden from anyone's apparent view. It wouldn't do to have his death pointed at him so early on. Seeing everyone squirm was worth giving up the rights to boast of the murder. The only one who knew about it was Sakura and she wouldn't say anything. They had an understanding...of sorts.

Stepping back, no one could really tell there was a corpse lying beneath the bed. Just as he knew it would. The corners of his mouth curled up as he turned away, finished with disposing of the two guards from his own cell.

This was enough for tonight... No need to get greedy just yet. Now, he could just sit in his cell and listen to all the mayhem going on throughout the building and laugh to himself. Eventually the sleeping gas would filter through the building and whoever was out of their cells would be caught, while Jerry lost his wig at the loss of control.

Joker would be sitting in his cell when that happened, acting completely shocked at what had unfolded and the missed opportunity to have a good time.

"HAHAHAWOOHAHAAA!" Laughing manically and turning on his heel, the clown left the cell. This had turned out to be a good night after all.. He felt more like his good old self than in the last few weeks.

Going out into the hall, he couldn't stop chuckling on the way back to his cell. Just imagining the faces of the doctors when everything calmed down was thrilling. So afraid and confused... If only he could see Jerry's expression when he realized his precious asylum was turned into a hell hole while he was gone.

Reaching the open door of his cell, the clown froze noticing something in the corner of his eye in the hall... Something that didn't belong there, not anymore.

Spinning around, dark eyes widened in disbelief, not sure if he trusted his own sight anymore or if it was a hallucination.

_'What the...no way...'_

The witch was walking down the hall...hanging upside down from the ceiling, dragging someone by their ankle.

Shaking his head, Joker blinked a few times waiting to come back to his senses as the side of his mouth quirked up. Was this another freaky dream? Or was Sakura really walking across the ceiling so...casually?

It felt like looking into one of those topsy turvey mirrors in a fun house...or doing acid. Smacking the side of his head to make sure he was definitely awake, there was no doubt about it.

_'Okay...more surprises. Interesting!'_

This chick was definitely a woman of many talents...and she looked pissed.

"What a surprise! Didn't think I'd see my bunny twice in-" Joker didn't even get to finish his sentence as Sakura threw the body she was dragging along straight at him, sending them crashing onto the floor.

* * *

"You son of a bitch!" Sakura felt like snapping the clown in half. Coming down the hall, she knew exactly what he was planning as he tried slipping back into his own cell. He was already back in his orange jumpsuit, even though he'd just been wearing Harold's uniform when he came to see her.

_'That bastard...' _The clown was planning on causing such a ruckus then sitting in his cell and watching everything unfold from a front row seat. That way when things came to a head and there was a crackdown, he wouldn't face any repercussions or be blamed for what happened. He could sit there on his ass with a grin as the staff tried to get order and watch the ones who'd been running around be punished.

If anything, Joker would more than likely be praised by Harleen for not joining in and would get more leeway and privileges that would come in handy for whatever he was really planning. How cunning...this was all just to test the asylum and their reactions, but there was probably more to it. She could just feel it.

In the end, everything was just all a game to him. How...interesting.

Shoving the body off of him and kicking it to the side, the clown sat up. Leaning back on his hands, acting casual and grinning up at her.

"Did, ah, my little bunny miss me that much? Came all the way down here just to see me? Hahaha!" Gritting her teeth, the raucous laughter coming from the man on the floor was biting at her nerves.

Pushing off from the ceiling, she landed on his chest hard, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Don't call me your "little bunny"... Do you know how much trouble you caused?" Biting out the words, the urge to punch him was so tempting. Even though it most likely hadn't been intended, his actions allowed for a serial rapist to get into her cell and after finding Terry on the floor, brought back unwanted memories.

Coughing and sputtering as he gulped for air, Joker regained his composure quickly. Breathing hard, a malicious grin plastered itself on his face as she straddled his chest, glaring down at him.

"Why don't you scoot up a bit, then we can talk? Hmm?"

Sakura's face turned a pretty shade of pink as a horrified expression filtered over it, realizing what he meant. A hand cracked against the side of his cheek, only to be followed by more laughter.

"You're such a _pig_!" Standing up and getting off of him, she turned away to get her face and emotions under control. There was no way she could let him get under her skin, he knew saying that would throw her off as he tried getting the upper hand even from below...and it worked. The question had embarrassed her, especially because it came out of left field.

_'I should have seen that coming...'_

Without turning back to him, she could see him getting up out of the corner of her eye. Remembering that she had just kissed him an hour ago, she tried to push the image away, not wanting to give him an edge to provoke even more out of her.

"Aww.. What's wrong? You, ah, don't like my handiwork? Thought _you_ of all people would appreciate it." The vein in her forehead throbbed, hearing the pride and amusement in his voice. "Looks like you got that straighjacket and the gloves off all on your own, hmm?"

Whirling around to face him, she wanted to wipe the smug look off his face as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest.

"Didn't have much of a choice. You're little stunt left my block in a complete mess! Handing out those keycards was a stupid idea. I had a serial rapist break into my cell because of your 'little fun". Hope you're happy..."

Sakura inwardly grinned watching the clown staring down at her, wanting to see what kind of reaction he'd have. This is what he enjoyed, right?

For a moment, even though he had tried to control his expression, the clown's grin faltered as something passed through his features. The corner of his mouth twitched hard, dark eyes becoming indecipherable as they stared at her. The bloodlust that hadn't been present spiked violently, then dissipated as quickly as it came. It was fast, but her keen eyes picked up on the sudden change in his face and aura as he put his mask back on, concealing his thoughts and emotions. Everything became scrabbled for a second before going back into place.

_'Interesting...'_

"Well, seeing as you're _here_... I'm sure that wasn't anything a brute like you couldn't handle." Reaching out, his fingers fiddled with the top of her jumpsuit, pulling the zipper up the rest of the way. As soon as she was covered as much as the inmate uniform allowed, a calloused finger poked against her exposed clavicle, finding it strangely interesting as his eyes narrowed in on the offending bone.

Green eyes followed his hands and reactions, noticing the way he was purposely avoiding looking at her face. If she had any less self control, the pinkette would have burst out laughing. He really was hopeless...

"_Obviously_."

The clown chuckled darkly, pulling away and running his fingers through the dirty blonde mess on his head. She could see the wheels turning in his eyes as his tongue snaked out, running up the length of the long scar along the side of his mouth.

"Ha. So, what did you do with him? _Twist_ him in to a _pretzel_? _Crush_ him into a _fine_ powder to use as blush? Hmm? What did the sweet little _witch_ do?" He seemed genuinely curious despite the condescending words as he watched her carefully, rubbing his fingers along the jagged marks along his cheeks.

_'He's trying to figure me out...and piss me off. Calling me a witch when I told him not to. Another bait to draw more out.'_

"You really want to know? I kicked him between the legs and cut his throat." Seeing the way he froze, he must have assumed she wouldn't have been so blunt about it. Probably thought she would give a vague answer or change the subject entirely.

"AHAHAHAHA! That's _my_ girl!" Throwing his head back, a cackle like a hyena's came out of his scarred mouth, startling the pinkette as the obnoxious noise pierced through her ears.

Alarms started blaring throughout the building as both stopped what they were doing to look around.

"Great..." That could only mean one of two things. Cash had arrived and set them off in the main security office or Dr. Arkham was outside and getting ready to put the place on complete lockdown.

Looking at the clown, she shifted her jaw in annoyance at all the trouble his actions were going to cause. Security was going to be tighter than ever and the lax guards that had been working there who were either dead or out of commission would be replaced with new ones. That was never an ideal scenario.

Knowing how the head of the asylum was, everything was going to be stricter, more suffocating than it already was. On top of that, Harold was now dead so he wouldn't be around to vouch for the pinkette or be on her side. Things were about to get a whole lot shittier...all so the Clown Prince could get a laugh.

Clicking her tongue at the grinning man in front of her, the pinkette turned away to head back to J-Block before things got worse.

"Ah-ta-ta-_ta_... Where ya think you're going? _Hmm_?" A hand wrapped around her wrist, trying to stop her from leaving.

"Back to my cell. What does it look like?" Narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the clown, she watched him carefully, not knowing what he had up his sleeve.

"I don't _think_ so... The nights still young, sweetheart!" Seeing the smile stretching across his scarred mouth, Sakura didn't know what he had in mind, but it probably wasn't anything good.


	18. Hopeless

_"Hahh…"_ Harleen stares mindlessly at the television, watching the news. It's late and she really should be sleeping for work in the morning, but that's been hard to come by lately.

Night after night, the blonde ends up tossing and turning for hours, until finally tiring herself out enough to get some rest. She knows sleep is important to function normally for the next day, to keep her alert and aware, but that fact doesn't make it come any easier.

The melatonin tablets have helped a little in getting some extra shut-eye. It's still not enough, though. She'll have to move up the chain and try something new before this starts affecting her work performance. The last thing she needs is Jeremiah using this as an excuse to take over Mr. J's case altogether. That can't happen…

Gazing towards the papers on the coffee table, Harleen bites the inside of her lip. She keeps feeling conflicted over her patients and what's been going on. Part of her _knows_ that Mr. J must've provoked Sakura into acting out. Manipulating people and pushing them into action is one of his specialties. However, another side of her blames the pinkette for falling for the bait and lashing out. What could the clown have said that warranted destroying two glass doors and killing a few guards?

_'Bulletproof glass doors…'_

The thought seems unbelievable… If she hadn't gone to D-block to see the result with her own eyes, she would've thought the guards were pulling her leg, but it's true. How can a person get through a thick surface like that, when they're made to withstand gunfire? To think, she's sat in sessions with this woman many times, with only handcuffs on… If those doors can't stop her, what would a little metal chain between two cuffs do?

_'She could've killed me so many times by now… Why hasn't she tried or attempted to escape?' _

Patients have escaped or attempted to, with _much_ less ability than Sakura possesses. So, why hasn't she done anything? Does that mean she actually cares about rehabilitation or is there another reason? It's clear that Harold has unusual favoritism towards her, but she was there two years before him and still didn't try anything.

_'Curious…'_

Sometimes, it's incredibly difficult to gauge the reasoning behind _some_ of the patient's actions or reasoning, even with a doctorate in psychology. There are no books or classes that can truly prepare someone for a place like Arkham. An infamous facility with some of the most notorious criminals is a treasure trove for a psychiatrist.

Gotham is known all over as one of the worst cities, with the highest crime rate. What makes this different from other places is that it's not just petty crimes, like prostitution or drug dealing. Some people try taking over and destroying _everything._ Most mobsters and thugs at least understand not to shit where they eat, but not these guys. They'll blow up the entire state if possible, not caring if they end up going down too.

It's for this reason that Harleen was interested in starting as a consultant for the asylum in the first place. Nothing is more interesting than how the human mind works and develops.

**_"We're not that different, you and I. Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day to change the seats we're sitting in. I'm sure you understand what I'm saying. Right, Doc?" _**

Mr. J is completely right about that and it's a frightening thought, but intriguing at the same time. A perfect example is Jonathan Crane. He was the Chief Administrator for Arkham and no one in the asylum supposedly knew that he was using the patients in his experiments. Now, he's just another patient, sitting in his cell all day and having sessions with the doctors. Perhaps he didn't have that _one bad day_, per se, but it's apparent there's an underlying mental disorder he's dealing with.

Sometimes it's scary how well Mr. J understands people and how the world works. If his life had been different, he could've made an excellent psychiatrist or psychologist and used his vast knowledge to help others, instead of trying to destroy them. Maybe it's because he understands them so well, that he figures there's no use. That the world is a hopeless cause, a disease that no medication can help…

That man and his words are like a ghost, constantly haunting her and coming out of nowhere. Sometimes, Harleen just stares at the ceiling and mulls them over, trying to come up with responses to the things he'll say. Certain topics he thoroughly enjoys conversing about, like society and politics. Despite the dark humor and sarcasm, he's very intelligent and insightful.

It's a strange feeling being able to talk to another person that openly listens _and_ has answers. Whenever she goes on dates, the blonde always ends up finding herself bored, while some man carries on about themselves and mundane subjects that she has no interest in. They never seem to notice, too lost in their selfish desires to care and more worried about if the money spent on the bill will be pay off with a roll in the sheets.

It's not right, but Harleen is finding herself in a difficult situation. Both Mr. J and Sakura are her patients, yet her personal feelings keep rearing their little heads. She _knows_ the clown did something wrong and can feel it in her gut. However, when she heard what the pinkette did, there was an anger inside at the thought of her possibly killing Mr. J. A fear blindsided her at the thought of that woman taking away her one chance at truly proving herself as a great psychiatrist and the one person she feels a connection to. It's wrong, she knows this, but can't help the way she feels to a certain extent.

Mr. J is known for manipulating people and trying to get their guard down, but Harleen's confident she can handle this for the most part. She refuses to allow it to reach a level of arrogance, which can result in harming herself and the clown. Despite that, it's clear they have somewhat of an understanding and are starting to make progress. No one can get in the way of that, not Jeremiah or another patient.

Sakura is a nice girl and hasn't technically done anything against the blonde, but part of her can't forgive what happened a few days ago. It's selfish and unprofessional, something the doctor has been struggling internally with. Maybe she's tired of caring what other people think and wants a little more out of this life than what she already has. Her entire world is wrapped around this job and outside of that, there's not much to boast about. No husband or children, nothing to fill the empty hole inside of her chest. Ash and her children are the biggest joy she has, but it's just not enough anymore.

Reaching out to grab one of the sheets from the table, Harleen leans back to sink into the couch. It's an order for Mr. J's sleeping medication. She's lowering the dose, since he keeps complaining he doesn't want it, instead of completely stopping it the way the staff tried doing in her absence. With the kind she prescribed, he needs to be weaned off to avoid nasty side-effects. That's why _she's_ the psychiatrist, not the techs. They don't know what they're doing. He also requested for prazosin, so she's going to start him off on 1mg at night and see how it works.

_'He must be having nightmares, but doesn't want to go into detail.' _

When her cellphone starts ringing on the table, Harleen's brows furrow at the number on the screen. Pushing off the couch, she quickly grabs the device to answer it. If someone from the asylum is calling at this hour, it's _never_ a good thing… She just hopes to God that it has nothing to do with Mr. J…

"Hello?..."

* * *

"Let go or I'll tear you to pieces." Sakura looks from the hand coiled around her wrist, up towards the man standing in front of her. He seems amused at the threat, tightening his grip and smiling like the devil himself.

"Don't threaten _me_ with a good time." The clown barks out a laugh, trying to pull her closer. He's thoroughly enjoying the chaos and trouble his actions have caused to the asylum, not having a care in the world. "Besides, you can always, ah, _put me back together_."

This is frustrating. The entire place is going to be stormed soon and full of gas. Does he realize what's going to happen to the facility after this? Probably, but couldn't care less. While she's already playing out scenarios and thinking of what to say to the staff, he just wants to screw around. Her cell in J-block is a complete mess thanks to fucking Moxley, so it's not like she can pretend nothing happened. They'll have to put her in a new one since there's no way in hell she's sleeping next to that dirtbag's corpse and smelling his filthy blood all night.

One good thing that came out of this shit-show, is that she has a bit of a replacement for Harold. Now that he's gone, courtesy of the asshole staring at her, she needs someone else that works here to be in her corner. It's a necessary evil, but she knows what needs to be done.

After healing Terry upstairs, she dragged him into one of the empty cells to let him rest. That's when ideas starting forming in her head and she decided this man will be a good substitute. He's kind in nature, generous to deserving patients, and owes her a big ass debt that won't be forgotten. She'll make sure of _that_.

Not only did the pinkette save his life, but she also promised to take care of a certain someone for him when they were talking in the cell. Of course, she wanted to make sure their stories line-up for when everyone's interrogated, which will undoubtedly happen when the craziness dies down. Naturally, that includes putting herself in the best light possible and leaving out _quite_ a few details.

After all, she has no plans of staying in J-block any longer than necessary. Unlike the other inmates out of their cells, Sakura had no intention of destroying the place or killing off the staff. She just _happened_ to smash Sid's head in on the way to see the clown. Sometimes, random acts of violence occur in the halls of Arkham. Can't be helped…

"Don't you realize what's happening? That the guards are going to be storming the place any minute?" The pinkette looks at him incredulously, wondering what he can possibly have in mind at a time like this.

Joker clicks his tongue, grimacing at the way she's trying to spoil his fun. _Too bad._ Unlike him, she doesn't have to worry about the sleeping gas that's about to come through the vents shortly. There's been a few times in the past three years when it's been employed during a riot, but it doesn't faze her. No one else in the building, besides Poison Ivy, can say that.

"Stop being a pain. They're nothing to worry 'bout. I know ya didn't come all the way down here just to bitch at me. _Hmm?"_ The smug expression on his face is obnoxious and he grins _wide_ when she doesn't reply right away. "C'mon, admit it. Ya wanted to see me and you're using this as an excuse."

Now it's Sakura's turn to grimace at his words. She _did_ come down to berate him, but perhaps there's a tiny part of her that does want to see him, especially after their talk in her cell. He killed two guards and impersonated one of them to visit her in J-block when he could've just carried out this little plan of his. It's not like he gained anything that helped him pull this off by doing that. All the tools were already at his disposal. The uniform, keycards, and the blocks he started with are in the complete opposite direction.

Joker went out of his way to go to her, even if he has ulterior motives that he's trying to convince himself of. In a way, it's kind of flattering that he went through the trouble of doing that and risk possibly getting caught. If any of the other guards noticed his scars, all the alarms would've gone off and he'd be thrown into J-block as well.

"Don't flatter yourself, clown. _Let go_. You know the place is going to be on lockdown soon and I'm not too keen on being here when that happens." If she's going to keep up this farce and stay here, it might as well be in comfort. Hopefully, if everything plays out as expected, she should be back in her old cell soon. This incident might work out in her favor.

"We have a good fifteen minutes or so. It's gonna take Cash a _little_ bit to get into the control room. Jerry's the one who set the alarm off outside, so we have time to finish our da-_te_." He pumps his brows, completely smug and annoyingly confident with whatever he's done to cause the Head of Security extra problems.

"Great…" The pinkette sighs, rubbing the sides of her temples and forgetting there's a little blood on her fingertips, leaving another splotch of red on her pale skin. When the cool air hits the fluid, she realizes it's there and furiously wipes it away with the bottom of her sleeve. The reaction causes the clown to snicker, but he doesn't say anything about it, refusing to get off track with the little time they have left.

"Ya don't sound too enthusiastic, dollface. And here I thought we could have a good time together now that you're out and about." She pauses in the middle of rolling up the cuffs of her jumpsuit to arch a brow at him, wondering what he means by a 'good time'. Killing people? Breaking out? Stealing things or setting the building on fire?

"What does the great 'Clown Prince of Crime' have in mind?" Sakura's genuinely curious at this point since he's mentioned them doing something together multiple times now. If that includes sex or leaving the asylum, he's going to be _very_ disappointed.

"Thought you'd never ask!" There's a small glint in those dark pits when he narrows them and it's _unsettling_. After the comment he made when she threw Sid at him, the pinkette knows there's a perverse side to this man that hasn't really shown itself these last few weeks.

**_"Why don't you scoot up a bit, then we can talk? Hmm?"_**

Sakura can feel the heat caressing her cheeks remembering his words. How embarrassing… She wasn't able to hide that emotion from him, because it took her off guard, which isn't an easy feat. He doesn't usually make sexual innuendos and it threw her through a loop at the time.

_'He was saying he wanted me to sit on his face. What a pig…' _

"_Hah_. What are you thinking 'bout? Somethin' _dirty_? Your face is the same color as your hair." The pinkette debates punching him right in the gut for that. It's infuriating that he's pulling this out of her in the first place, and now he's going to start saying things like that just to elicit a reaction. "I have something else on the agenda. We don't have enough time for, ah, _tha-t_ right now."

_'Should I hit him?'_

"No shit! You wouldn't get _tha-t_ anyway. I'm still mad Moxley got into my cell, because of your little stunt. What if I couldn't get my straight jacket off or those gloves _actually_ did their job? Then I'd be upstairs getting raped, while you're down here laughing your ass off." If she was a regular woman, that's exactly what would've happened. That moron just picked the _wrong_ one. There's no way of him knowing he was walking into a bigger nightmare than himself.

No one would expect a skilled kunoichi in this world, let alone in an asylum. Some people just have shit luck and Moxley was dealt a bad hand. It's exactly what he deserved. If anything, she could've disabled him and handed his disgusting body over to some of the sadistic female inmates. A few of them would've had a _blast_ tormenting him until the bastard finally died. That's what he always did to his young victims.

_'Poor girls. I should've done that so maybe they can rest in peace. Dammit…'_

The corner of the clown's mouth twitches as he stares at her. She can tell something's playing out in his mind from the expression he's making. He's probably imagining a scenario unfolding where the pinkette _is_ stuck and can't get out. What might've happened… His dark eyes look cold and hard until they finally flicker towards Sid's body on the ground.

_"Didn't think it get to J_…" If Sakura's ears weren't so sharp, it would've been easy to miss, but she heard it. The words are mumbled under his breath and she thinks he might be talking to himself.

"What?" He blinks at the question and tears his gaze away from the corpse, back to her. Now she _knows_ it wasn't meant for her because he seems surprised.

"I said, 'Good thing you're such a goddamn brute'. _Did ya catch that?"_ Joker seems annoyed and cracks his neck, letting out a harsh grunt. He probably didn't intend to say that out loud and is angry about it.

_'I guess that's the closest thing to an apology I'll ever get out of this man. That's good enough. I know he'd be damned before letting someone else kill me, especially since he's been wanting to do it himself all this time.'_

"Yeah, I did. So, what do you have planned?" Sakura decides to change the subject, satisfied with what she wasn't supposed to hear. There's no point holding a grudge on what could've happened, considering it wasn't intentional. Besides, she's more interested in what he has up his sleeve.

The question has an instantaneous effect on his mood, switching from agitation to a little more lighthearted. The scowl etched into his face turns into a crooked grin as he gives her hand a hard tug.

"I wanna dance." His lips pull back to bare his teeth until he starts cackling at the horrified expression that twists the pinkette's face.

He can't be serious. This must be some sort of trick to get another reaction out of her. No way in hell is she dancing in the halls of Arkham when they're about to be raided in the next fifteen minutes. That's never been her _thing_ anyway… Sure, she's quick on her feet and can be graceful, but dancing? Nope. Nope. _Nope_.

"Go ahead. No one's stopping you." She's not joining in. If he wants to make a fool of himself, that's just fine. She's not opposed to sitting back and observing until the gas makes him drop to the floor. That'll make for a great laugh when there's nothing else to do.

"_No_." Joker grips her hand and takes a step closer. For some ungodly reason, she suddenly feels anxious and on edge, wanting to bolt back upstairs. Right now, sitting in a cell with Moxley's corpse would be more comforting than what the clown wants to do. "I wanna dance with you, doll. Let's see if a _bull_ can move like a swan."

Now, she really does want to hit him.

"I don't dance." Sakura breathes out, looking to find anything interesting on the wall to stare at. Throwing him a sideways look, the pinkette notices that he's smiling so wide, she thinks his scars might tear open.

_'What's he so damn happy about?'_

Is he enjoying how flustered she's becoming? Or that there's something she's not completely confident about? There were times in the past that Ino dragged her to _move around_ during festivals in the village, but that was a long time ago. After the war, she hasn't attempted anything like that.

"Everyone dances, just in different ways. From how quietly ya snuck up on me, I know you're graceful. C'mon, I'll _show_ ya how." Before she can argue, he takes the hand he's grasping and places it against his right shoulder.

"No. I'm not doing this shit!" Her face burns bright and she sounds angry but doesn't stop him when he starts positioning her body. Standing in front of her, Joker clicks his tongue, tapping against her foot to move them a certain distance apart.

"Just humor me, witch." The vein in her forehead throbs at the name, wanting to drive his skull into the floor for saying it again. How many times has she told him not to call her that? "It's _easy_. I lead and you follow-"

"Of course, you do." Her eyes narrow into slits, watching his lip curl up in distaste. There's no way he just wants to dance with her. No… This is about something else. She can just _feel_ it in her bones.

"Would ya shaddap and let me finish? _Hmm?_ Like I was _saying_, I lead and you follow. Keep your hand on my shoulder, that way you can _feel_ my movements. I'll take a few steps forward, and you take the same back. Quick, quick, slow, slow. That way we can get a rhythm, before the rest." Sakura wants to drive her own skull into the floor now, just to have an excuse to not do this.

_'The rest?'_

He stands a little off to the side, sliding his right hand beneath the pinkette's underarm and rests it against her shoulder blade. Glancing down, his feet are separated and positioned in front, so if they walk in a straight line, there shouldn't be an issue of him stepping on them.

_'I wonder where he learned this from? He doesn't seem like the type of man that likes to dance. Then again, he's a clown…'_

"I thought people usually dance to music or something with a beat?" The question comes out thoughtlessly and she bites her tongue for it. Of course, someone can do this without anything playing in the background. How stupid… Now, he's going to make a smart-ass remark to piss her off.

"Hah. Can't ya hear it?" He grins, taking her other hand in his own and holding it up in line with the middle of her face. Straightening his back, the pinkette realizes how much taller Joker is when he's not hunching his shoulders. There's almost a foot difference in their height.

"What're you talking about?" Listening closely, all the pinkette can hear is the alarms going off and a scream now and then. Is that what he's talking about? When she narrows her green eyes on him and he grins in confirmation.

_'Sadistic bastard...'_

_"Like music to my ears…"_ Those black holes in his face flutter close as he rolls his head around, almost like he's drinking in the sounds. This person truly is a strange man, but she can't help finding him intriguing, even if he has a few screws loose. "Hmm… 'Kay. I'll take a few steps forward, so follow my lead. I know you're quick on the uptake, so it'll be _easy_."

"Just don't step on my toes." For some reason, Sakura smiles and she's not sure why. What's the point in doing this anyway? Does she just want to see what he'll do or might be planning?

"If I do, it'll be your fault for not listenin'. Let's go." Joker starts moving closer and she steps back, using the hand on his shoulder to follow his movements. When he takes a step, she can feel it in the way his muscles flex beneath her touch. It's easy, just like he said. "Don't stare at my feet or it might throw ya off. No one dances like that, ya brute."

"Call me that again, I'll turn you into an animal balloon and sell you back to the circus." Instead of either becoming enraged at the insults, they're both _smirking_. It feels strange to be doing this. The entire asylum is in an uproar and people are at each other's throats, yet she's in D-block, being instructed on how to dance by a psychopathic terrorist.

_'Funny how the world is…'_

"Okay… Pretty simple, ain't it? Now, when we get to this part, I spin ya around one and a half times, like this-" He twirls her to the right, so that she's facing the same direction as him, then pushes her to spin the same way backward. "Ya see? One and a half this way, then one and a half back. Only, we don't stop moving when we're in action. Got it?"

Sakura nods, trying to hide the tinge on her cheeks. Right now, she doesn't think she can manage a verbal confirmation. It is simple and he's good at giving direction-_no surprise there_-but this is a side of him that she didn't expect. There are a million other things he could've suggested, so why this one?

Joker starts moving again and she follows, letting him twirl her back and forth seamlessly. He smirks at how fast she picks up on the movements, completely smug in knowing it's _his_ doing. Now, the clown thinks he can boast to himself about teaching the_ 'Queen'_, as he likes to call her, new things.

They effortlessly step over Sid's body that's in the way, gliding a little further down the wall, before moving back. Despite not wanting to have any part in this, Sakura finds herself starting to enjoy it. When's the last time she's done anything like this with another person?

_'The calm, before the storm…'_

The pinkette tries to push the thought away, wanting to keep her focus on the clown's movements. One wrong step and he'll be on her toes, which he'll make sure she never forgets. As long as she keeps moving the right way, that won't happen. It's kind of funny. She remembers women always complaining about men stepping on their feet and never realized that it was their fault for not paying attention. Usually, it's blamed on their partners for being a crappy dancer.

Glancing up towards her own partner, Sakura stiffens at the way Joker's looking at her. Those shadowy lids keep twitching and she notices that he's staring at her face. They've been playing this weird game for weeks on end, toying with each other's minds and emotions, always trying to figure the other one out. Instead of just talking, like normal people, they constantly test the waters, using their reactions as a way to look beneath the surface. Words lie, but body language and taking someone off guard is far more genuine.

Throughout their entire encounter—_she doesn't know what to call this_—the pinkette's been confident and fighting to stay in control of everything that happens. Undoubtedly, the clown has gotten a few good punches in and occasionally surprises her, but she's kept her cool. There isn't much that can knock someone like her off the edge, not after the war and what she's seen.

And yet…

That glint in his eyes makes her want to hide like she's standing bare-naked in the hallway. She's been nude in front of the guards more times than a woman should have to endure and always exudes the image that nothing can bother her. There's something in those pools of obsidian that gives her the sensation of having everything stripped away. Her orange jumpsuit, the skin, and muscles covering her bones, all the way down to the core of her being, dipping into the translucent soul residing there.

He's never looked at her like _this_. It feels like someone drained the blood from her veins and is replacing it with molten lava. The frigid temperature in the asylum is rising at an alarming rate and the change is causing her skin to prickle with goosebumps.

_'It's me that's getting hot, not the building.'_

Sakura doesn't remember if she's ever danced with a man before. One that _isn't_ her father… Kami knows she's tried in the past, but the only person she ever wanted to do it with always spurned her advances.

….

"Ah, that was deli-cious! I wanna 'nother one!" The blond-haired boy jumps on the stool excitedly, leaning over the table with his blue eyes wide open.

"Naruto! Stop being _a pig!_ You already had five of them…" Sakura clicks her tongue, taking a small bite out of the green-colored dumpling on a stick.

This night is the festival to celebrate the end of summer and the beginning of a new season. Everyone in the village is out and enjoying themselves, wearing colorful yukatas with different patterns sewn into the light fabric. The shinobi that aren't on guard leave their uniforms at home and blend in with the rest of the civilians. It warm and dark out, making the beautiful variety of lanterns all around shine brightly in the background.

Sakura loves this time of year. The sweltering heat of summer is finally leaving with the cool breeze of autumn right on its tail. Missions during the summer months are always the most grueling unless they're sent elsewhere. That doesn't happen for the most part, since they're a relatively young team of genin. Even though Kakashi-sensei is the leader, he doesn't want them to take missions above their skill level.

That can result in the entire team being killed if there's a slip-up, like what almost happened in the Land of Waves, when they ran into Zabuza-san and Haku-chan. Naruto still sulks now and then about that, but it pushes him to train harder.

When one of the staff places another plate of dango on the counter, the pinkette sighs when Naruto hops right on it. He's such a glutton and has no self-control, whatsoever. How can someone like that be a shinobi? It's hard enough for her to keep the cravings down for another. After all, she's on a diet and can't just sit around eating sweets all night. It's a constant battle with no end in sight, but sacrifices need to be made with the end goal in mind.

Green eyes subtly drift towards the dark-haired boy sitting between her and Naruto. Sasuke-kun… He's been brooding most of the night from girls harassing him to dance. There's a large area near the trees, where some of the villagers are swinging around and laughing to the beat of drums and a few other instruments she has no interest in.

Kakashi-sensei suggested going to the dango stand, after a long, drawn-out argument between Sasuke-kun and Naruto about going to Ichiraku for ramen. He said we always go there and it's too warm for that, but disappeared when Guy-sensei showed up. Probably to get out of paying the large bill the glutton will rack up.

_'Typical…'_

Taking another tiny bite of her dumpling, Sakura glances towards the group of people dancing again. It looks like fun and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Part of her likes to think that maybe Sasuke-kun denied those girls, so he can do it with her. It very doubtful, she knows this. He's not the type to take part in activities that he considers a waste of time. Sweets are his weakness, so she always jumps for the suggestion when the team argues where to eat.

_'I wonder if…'_

The pinkette knows she's being stupidly hopeful, it's one of her short-comings as a kunoichi. That doesn't stop her though, always trying to look ahead towards the light at the end of the tunnel. She can't help the persistent feelings that constantly drive her in one direction.

"S-Sasuke-kun…" Sakura's nervous and it's hard to get the words out, especially when he turns his head and looks at her with those large, dark eyes. She freezes on the spot, feeling the lump forming in her throat that's trying to get in the way of her asking. It doesn't matter. She's a kunoichi of Konohagakure and needs to steel her resolve. If she can't even manage this, then what hope is there? Taking a deep breath, it's either now or never. "Do you want to dance with me?"

The Uchiha looks surprised for a split-second, before returning to his usual stoic expression. He doesn't say anything for a moment and her nerves are on the fritz the longer he keeps her waiting. If a 'no' didn't come out right away, does that mean he's at least thinking about it?

Sasuke-kun clicks his tongue an takes the last bite of his dumpling, dropping the stick on the plate with a clang. When he hops off the stool, her heart flutters and almost rips right out of her chest. Is he accepting the offer? Will he dance with her, after turning all those girls down? They're a lot prettier than she is, but maybe that doesn't matter to some guys?

The other's always poke fun at her hair color and forehead, but she has a few other good qualities that might make up for it. At least, the pinkette _thinks_ so… She hopes that maybe the Uchiha can overlook those flaws and see the person behind that. If he chooses her, she'll work hard to make sure he doesn't regret it. One thing that can be said about her, is that she's loyal and has a ridiculous amount of dedication when it comes to something important to her.

_'I hope Sasuke-kun notices that…'_

When he stands up, she looks at him with a small smile, praying that this works out for once. Every time she asks him to do anything with her, it's always the same answer, but this time he didn't do it yet.

"Get lost." Sasuke-kun grimaces, shoving his hands in his pockets, before walking away.

It's like someone knocked the wind right out of her, punching the pinkette in the gut and dropping a bucket of ice water down her back. She's dazed, almost falling off the stool from what he just said. It's the same way every time he does it, but it never gets better no matter how often she experiences it.

"You jerk! Don't treat Sakura-chan that way!" Naruto yells at the Uchiha before he completely leaves the shop. He turns and narrows those dark eyes on the blond-haired boy in annoyance.

"You dance with her then, _dobe_."

It just barely registers in her brain that he's leaving, still in shock and denial about the rejection. She can hear them arguing, but it sounds like static in the background. Aside from the music playing and the laughter, it's finally quiet when she looks up from the ground.

"I'll dance with you, Sakura-chan. How 'bout that? Ne? Ne?" Naruto's hopping around excitedly, but she doesn't care. He's not the one she wanted to spend time with and would rather have a verbal battle with the Yamanaka than do this with him.

Sakura's upset and humiliated, just wanting to go home and cry her eyes out on a pillow for the hundredth time. It hurts, constantly leaving an ache in her chest that never goes away.

"C'mon, Sakura-chan! It'll be fun! I promise ya won't regret it!" Hearing the word 'regret' and seeing his enthusiasm set her off. Without hesitating, a small fist comes crashing into his face, knocking him into the dirt. Cracking her knuckles, the pinkette storms off, not sparing the blond-haired boy stuttering on the ground another glance.

...

_'I was awful to Naruto… He didn't deserve that. Boy, I sure was a bitch when I was younger. He was just trying to make me feel better about Sasuke being a dick and I took my anger out on him. Now, I'll never get the chance to apologize…'_

"Hey… _Hey_, eyes on me." The pinkette blinks a few times at the low growl in her ear, not realizing how _close_ she let him get. It's like waking from a dream, one she never wanted to fall into in the first place. Those days are long gone, just part of a different life at this point.

Sakura tries shaking it off, almost in disbelief that she allowed herself to get lost this way. She didn't even notice the clown looming over her small frame, like a large shadow overhead.

Joker's _too_ close for comfort, still gripping her hand and moving to the steps he instructed. Only this time, he's not listening to the direction to keep the _same_ distance apart. His nose is in her hair and she can hear his heavy breaths, almost certain that he's smelling the pink locks.

_'What the hell's he doing?!'_

"_Heh_. How about we play a _little_ game?" He leans back and stands up straight with a cocky little smirk on his ruined mouth.

_'Here it is… This is what he's honestly looking for.'_

Sakura doesn't want to admit it, but part of her feels disappointed. There's always a method to his madness it seems. The dance must've been a way to get her to relax before the real intention comes out. Looks like no matter what time it is in her life, some things never change.

"What kind of game?" She doesn't try to hide her displeasure, verbally, or physically. That memory of Naruto and Sasuke took the wind out of her sails, and the man in front of her isn't helping either. For once, it would be nice to spend time with someone, without worrying about some hidden agenda or having to watch her own back. To be with another person that genuinely _wants_ to be around her and do things together, that likes who she is and not for some ulterior motive.

_'Never going to happen. You're not that foolishly hopeful genin anymore, so knock it off.'_

Joker is observant, picking up on the change in her mood right away. His lip curls up and she thinks he's about to snarl, but that doesn't happen. He seems annoyed, shifting his eyes towards one of the glass windows, instead of staring at her the way he's been doing this whole time.

"_Hmm?..." _The pinkette is twirled around again as his gaze wanders around everywhere else, but at her. She can't tell what he's thinking but can see the wheels turning. Despite visually appearing relaxed, his muscles are rigid beneath her fingers, revealing the underlying tension coursing through his body. Something is going on in that mind of his and he's trying to keep it away from his expression. "_Tch_. Wipe that look off your face, before I do it for ya."

_'What?'_

Sakura cranes her neck back at the threat. How the hell does he know what kind of expression she's making now when he's staring off in the distance? Cocky bastard. The grip on her hand tightens to the point it cracks her knuckles and she stops moving, causing him to step on her feet.

"You trying to break my hand?" He finally looks back at her with a scowl on his face. She thinks he's going to say something rude about being a brute or gorilla, but he doesn't. The hold on her hand lightens up to the pinkette's surprise, not trying to crush her bones into a fine powder anymore. The clown's acting strangely for some reason, nudging her to keep moving with his elbow.

"J, you said there's a game you wanted to play?" There's not much time left before the gas comes, so whatever he's hoping to do needs to happen now. Once the smog comes, his ass will be knocked out and the floor and she'll have to toss him into bed, so the guards don't snag him. It sure would be entertaining to watch, but the two of them in J-block doesn't sound too enticing.

"Yeah… That's _right_." His voice is deep, not playful as usual and he seems distracted. Not knowing what's going on upstairs is making her uneasy. The switch can flip in a split-second and she needs to stay aware.

"You're a fast learner." Joker doesn't say anymore as they move down the hall, closer to his cell. He is acting off and it's not clear why. A compliment being thrown in her direction without an insult laced in there somewhere is a good sign that something's _wrong_.

Sakura watches him carefully, noticing that's he's staring at her lips, instead of keeping eye-contact. The muscle in his cheeks jump and he swallows hard, looking away to spin her around again.

"What's up?" That's not what she genuinely wants to say. It's something along the lines of 'What are you looking at, bastard?', but opted to keep it a little less antagonistic. Right now, she's not really in the mood to fight with him and is more interested in finding out what's going on.

Those pitch-black eyes go back to staring at her mouth and it's starting to irritate her that he's not saying anything. Is he thinking about what happened in the cell earlier?

_'Oh, shit… That's right. I kissed him.' _

It's almost hard to believe she even initiated something like that, especially with him of all people. Then again, he's probably been the only one that she's felt somewhat of a connection to in this world. Who would've guessed it'd be in an insane asylum?

Watching the clown's face, her brows furrow when she notices his gaze slowly trailing down towards her neck. His tongue slithers out to prod at the forked scar on his own and his muscles bunch up under her touch.

_"Shit!"_ Sakura rips her hand away and puts it in front of his face, sending a wave of chakra into his system. The green glow illuminates his skin as his eyes widened into saucers, before rolling up into the back of his head. It only takes a second, before he drops to the floor in a heap of orange and tan.

"Goddammit!" The pinkette grits her teeth, staring down at the man by her feet. It was fast, but she could _feel_ it. The murderous intent and bloodlust coming off him… The sensation suddenly spiked when he was staring at her neck, probably preparing to lunge for it.

_'Why?'_

It doesn't make sense. Why now of all times? Of all the inmates in the building, she always recognizes his right away, after spending so much time across the hall from it. As soon as it appeared, she had to act on it, before one of them did something they _might_ regret.

_'Ah. I think I get it…'_

Before moving to her neck, Joker's eyes were glued to her lips for a few minutes. Either he was thinking about her kissing him or doing it himself, but the thought must've angered him. He doesn't like feeling influenced to do anything and that's when the clown becomes intolerant. Those moments when someone disrespects him or has a flood of emotions that he's uncomfortable with are the most dangerous.

_'What a pain in the ass.'_

Why does she have to be interested in a man that lashes out just because he felt like doing something normal? That's definitely it… He wanted to kiss her and it sent him into a frenzy. What kind of person goes to kill someone over that?

_'A psychotic clown, that's who.'_

Crouching down towards the floor, Sakura sighs as she looks at the clown. He really is a strange man, but maybe that's what she likes about him. That wasn't planned or the intent would've been noticeable earlier. After all, he said there was a game he wanted to play, one that probably included trying to get information out of her.

Joker isn't foolish enough to try that on a whim, especially after what happened last time, and all that's led up to this point. He let his subdued emotions get the best of him and tried taking it out on her. If he genuinely wants to kill her, it won't be in such an obvious way. It would be some sneaky, underhanded tactic that he thinks she won't expect.

_'So, that's why he was looking at me that way when we were dancing…'_

The clown was finding himself enjoying what they were doing and let his mind wander further than he can tolerate. How terribly funny is that? Next time they see each other, he's going to be all pissy over this.

Reaching out, the pinkette gently moves some of the messy hair away from his face, letting her eyes wander over his features. It's so different than seeing him on the news with all the greasepaint and theatrics. This is the terrifying monster the entire city is scared of, lying unconscious on the floor from a small, pink-haired woman.

Honestly, she doesn't blame them for being afraid. He can be a terror, that's for sure. If the pinkette wasn't a trained kunoichi, she would've been dead weeks ago. Joker isn't some foolish thug with shitty color-coordination. He's extremely smart and resourceful, a recipe for disaster when mixed with madness. Physical strength isn't everything and she's witnessed that on several occasions in the past. Shikamaru is a perfect example of using his intelligence to overcome brute force.

_'Hmm... He has nice facial bone structure. A strong jaw too..__. Good for punching.'_

The clown is quite handsome, even with the scars. They don't bother her in the slightest. After all, it wasn't his appearance that drew her to him in the first place. It's his personality and persistence that caught her attention. No matter how often she ignored him during those times he worked hard to antagonize her, he never gave up, constantly trying even when he wasn't yielding any results from his efforts. She was always listening, no matter how much she pretended to be reading or sleeping. He doesn't give up and it reminds the pinkette a lot of herself.

"Hah. Life really is strange and random, isn't it?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, a smog starts filtering through the vent on the ceiling. Either Cash or Jeremiah must've made their way into the control room by now. The clown's estimate was correct on how much time they had left together, but he wasn't taking that into account when he suggested playing a game. He was probably too wrapped up in whatever spiral he found himself in to keep track of how many minutes already passed.

"Alright… Let's go." Grabbing the front of his jumpsuit, Sakura drags him across the floor towards his cell. She's not going to let the guards screw with him until she gets some more answers. They'll play his little game, just at a different time.

Going past the glass door, the pinkette doesn't know how to feel about all of this. Dancing with him was…something else. There's no point in acting like a stupid, hopeful little girl again. It'll only lead to a world of disappointment that leaves her with nothing but the sensation of pain in her chest. That's not going to happen again. She learned her lesson with Sasuke and won't make the same mistakes this time around.

Tossing Joker onto his bed, she tries to position him to look like he's been sleeping the entire time, covering him up with a blanket the way he usually has it. Just like his hair, a damn mess.

"Why do you have to be such a bastard?" Green eyes gaze down at the unconscious man, biting the inside of her lip. She made sure to only use enough chakra to knock the clown out temporarily and keep him in a light sleep. This has to be believable if she wants things to play out the way she wants them to.

_"Hahh…" _ Sighing, Sakura sits on the edge of the bed, feeling conflicted about everything. She can't remember the last time this has happened. It's been years since the pinkette hasn't known _exactly_ what needs to be done and it's all this man's fault.

_'You're driving me up a wall, asshole.'_

Perhaps it's okay to let the cards fall where they may. Nothing's ever set in stone to begin with. Joker always goes on about showing people their attempts at control are useless, yet lashes out when he finds himself losing it in the slightest. Maybe she's similar in a sense and they both need to learn how to let go and let things play out the way they're meant to.

Shifting her jaw, the pinkette puts a hand next to his pillow and leans forward, pressing her lips against his. The kiss he wanted and would've gotten if only his murderous and narcissistic tendencies didn't get in the way. It was easier when she did it in a dark cell earlier since they couldn't see each other, but she feels confident right now with him sleeping.

Leaning back, she almost laughs from imagining how enraged he'll be when he wakes up and remembers what happened. Will he come to J-block again, before she manages to return to the cell across the hall? Or does he intend on trying to kill her again over his own conflicting emotions?

Moving her hand, something brushes against the pinkette's fingers along the edge of his pillow. Furrowing her brows, she reaches under to pull out whatever is under there. It's none of her business but screw it. He had the balls to get one of his goons to find her file and take some papers out, so what's wrong with this?

Fishing under his head, the tips of her fingers pinch the thin item and she yanks it out into the open. He's not awake anyway, otherwise, he'd be furious that she's snooping like this. Looking down, Sakura's eyes widen at what the clown was hiding under his pillow. The frown on her face cracks, turning into a crooked grin and she starts laughing hysterically.

Two cards. The Queen of Hearts and Jack of Spades.

"You really are _hopeless_…"


	19. Fire

**A/N: **Thank you guys for being patient with me and sticking around! I really enjoy reading the reviews and PM's. It helps light a fire under my ass to keep going. I only have chapters 14-17 to pretty up, and this story will finally be the way I wanted it. 'Tsuyaku' is still a project, but I have someone helping to work out the kinks and tenses. 'Knives and Cherry Blossoms' is in its infancy stage and I have quite a few ideas for that one. I appreciate the support and hope everyone likes this new update. It turned out a little longer than I expected, to be honest. I'm going to try updating my stories once a week since I have extra time on my hands.

* * *

"Unbelievable…" Jeremiah almost doesn't trust his own eyes as he walks down _another_ hall. The respirator mask is secure and the straps a little tighter than necessary, but he won't take any chances. Not in _this_ facility. There are all kinds of patients, and sometimes the fumes aren't enough to get the job done. Well, maybe two or three of them.

This doesn't make any sense. Did the patients break out just to kill a few guards? Why didn't any try to escape in the chaos? That's what typically happens in these circumstances. Do the patients have _that_ much anger towards the staff? It's been made abundantly clear to the asylum head… Everything _needs_ to change, and he's willing to do just that.

** _"That's right! Once they see what you're trying to do, they'll be on their knees _ ** _ **thanking** _ ** _ you for all your hard work and dedication. You're the only one who has the guts to help everyone the way they need, but not how they deserve. That's for sure!"_ **

Perhaps Victor is right in that aspect. Someone has to take the reins and lead this asylum in a new direction. Otherwise, more nights like this will occur. That _can't_ happen. How will rehabilitation ever be a possibility for the patients if the ones leading the way aren't able to keep them safe from each other and themselves?

_'I have to do something…'_

The asylum is down seven guards, nine patients were killed and that's not counting the wounded. There hasn't been an atrocity like this in a few years. Not all in one night, at least. It's inexcusable and humiliating that his staff were taken by surprise. This entire situation is gnawing at him, and that in itself is worrisome. He's a doctor, the head of this facility, and a longtime believer in the field of psychology. If he can't hold it together, what will become of Arkham Asylum? Or his patients?

Trying to shake off the anxious thoughts, Jeremiah takes a sharp right into the security room. His brows furrow, taking in the door that's off its hinges and leaning up against a wall. Is this what took Cash so long to set off the fumes?

The Head of Security is sitting at a booth in front of dozens of screens, tapping away with his fingers and hook. The remaining guards are scouring the halls for any stragglers and trying to salvage anyone or anything they can with the medics. The entire facility was turned upside down in only an hour… The biggest catastrophe, since his uncle was head.

Taking a seat next to Cash, he lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Most of the bodies have already been found, as were the instigators behind this entire mess. To be honest, this whole fiasco smells of the Joker's doing. That's _exactly_ what he thought while standing out in front of the building. It falls in line with his previous actions and history over the years.

To _everyone's_ bewildered surprise, he was still locked in his cell, sleeping soundly. Naturally, he was quite skeptical about the clown's hand in all this, yet him staying in confinement is completely out of character. Each time he's pulled anything that can be considered a 'big move', Joker is usually found with the other unconscious patients, if at all. Not once when a riot or breakout has occurred, did the staff ever find him where he's _supposed_ to be.

_'Perhaps, Harleen is right. Did hell freeze over? Is there a possibility that the 'Clown Prince of Crime' is serious about rehabilitation? He could've left, but didn't try to. No one knew when the fumes were going off, so it's not like he positioned himself that way. I don't know, anymore…'_

Scratching the back of his head in agitation, Jeremiah feels like he's starting to lose his grip over this entire place. If the patients believe they can get away with pulling something like this, they'll try it again.

"What about the cameras?" Glancing at Cash, the older man sighs in exasperation. Motioning towards the screen, the guards slaps his hook down against the counter. He's been at this for a while, becoming more frustrated with each intentional glitch found. The security system is like an irreplaceable member of the staff that keeps an eye on the patients and records everything. They need it up and running right away, more than ever.

"The damn thing's on a constant loop. There's _nothing_. Looks like Humphry was telling the truth about all this. I still can't believe he woke up so quickly, after breathing those fumes in. Must be the weight..." Lifting his hook up, Cash starts tapping against the keyboard again, trying to get the system back on and functioning properly. It's a godsend that he knows how to work it since Jeremiah is tech-illiterate when it comes to programming. He's always preferred the old-fashioned way of doing things.

_"I see._ This is an embarrassment for the entire facility… We can't let this get out or the media will be all over it. Let's try to keep this quiet." There have been calls for shutting the asylum down, even since the incident with his uncle. When Amadeus fell into insanity, the entire place was thrown into chaos with inmates escaping and the building catching on fire.

The negative impact it's had on the city can't be put into words, and no one lets the current head forget it. He's not his uncle, and this facility is run much differently from back then. Three years later and people still keep comparing them, saying it's only a matter of time before he also falls into the same fit of madness.

"I don't know if that's possible. All my men have families and there's no guarantee they'll stay silent about this. Questions are gonna be asked and people will demand answers." Cash isn't wrong, but he's forgetting what city this is. It's _Gotham_. Many of the patients that were killed or injured don't have relatives left and the ones that do, typically refuse to have any contact with them. Only the employee's families might be an issue. Most people turn a blind-eye when serial killers or criminals are killed, and this place is filled to the brim with them.

"Let me handle that." The guard throws him a puzzled look, but he ignores it. There's no need to hash out the details right now. They have enough to deal with as it is. "I'm thinking about bringing in Strange and Sharp…"

"What?! You can't be _serious!"_ Pushing away from the counter, the dark-skinned man's eyes are wide in shock. It's no surprise, to be honest. This is the reaction he expected from him about the news. "Not them. Anyone but those two. They were let go when your uncle still ran this place. He had a hard time dealing with them."

"I understand your concern, but I'm not my uncle. We're understaffed now, and a heavy hand is exactly what we need at the moment. The patients are getting out of control and this is the chance to show them how serious we are." Sitting outside of the asylum, Jeremiah already made up his mind about the situation and no one will change it. The current guards have already shown they're not up for the task.

Drastic times call for drastic measures. It's not that he _likes_ the idea of having to bring in reinforcements, but will use any means to keep Arkham up and running. This is all for the patients, and ensuring the road to rehabilitation is still possible.

** _"That's just the thing! No one has the discipline to do what needs to be done anymore. They just _ ** _ **don't** _ ** _ get it._ **

No one truly understands his position and what he's trying to accomplish, but they _will_. Sooner than later. If the patients want to act like children and spit his efforts back into his face, then so be it. They must be put in time-out and punished. Once they realize the error in their ways, things will run smoothly. Perhaps that's how he should've been all along. If his work with the Joker is anything to go by, that might be the only way.

The bad children will be given a heavy dose of 'care' and the behaved ones can have a reward. If the delinquents see how good life can be if they conform and obey, they may reconsider their behaviors. He never became a father, but this asylum is his child, filled with little ones that need guidance.

_'Sometimes, a father needs to use a belt once in a while to make them behave…'_

Cash almost seems at a loss for words, slack-jawed, and his eyes still wide. He doesn't quite understand either, but that's okay. Once he sees the fruits of their labor, it'll all become clear. In the meantime, the facility will need more staff and a different quality of them. If one of their own guards willingly aided the patients in a raid, then he has to be careful with the next lot that comes in.

It's still a shock that Harold went to Humphry's cell and let him loose. If it was any other patient, Jeremiah wouldn't have believed a word that came from their mouth. The large man has been useful in feeding the staff information, despite his simple-minded nature. He accurately described the guard and saw his name-tag. An inmate has no access to key cards or could've interfered with the security systems like this.

To think, one of their own was behind this mess. That only makes the entire situation far worse. It's not a secret that Harold loathed the patients, but to do all this? Was it to get them to murder each other? Possibly get back at the asylum for some slight? No one can question him now since his actions resulted in his own death. One of the patients, Jeremy Todd, killed him and hid the body beneath his bed.

_'Disgraceful…'_

"So, what took so long to get into here?" Glancing towards the door, that's one of the few questions on his mind that can be answered at the moment. He wanted to ask earlier, but there was so much going on, it just seemed inconsequential.

Cash clicks his tongue, grimacing in annoyance. Dark eyes flicker at the entrance as he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. The hook is close to digging into his bicep, but Jeremiah says nothing about it, knowing the subject's a sore spot.

"Some asshole caulked the door shut. I don't know how anyone was able to get that much in or had enough time to apply it. Took me almost fifteen minutes to open the damn thing. At least, I think it's caulk… Either way, I had one hell of a time getting through."

* * *

This is fun. He doesn't know why, but it is. Maybe it's this godforsaken place or all the shock therapy has finally fried his brain to a crisp. Either way, it doesn't really matter at this moment.

Sakura seems to be enjoying herself too if that stupid grin is anything to go by. Why does she look so goddamn _happy?_ This isn't a big deal… Is this all it takes to satisfy Her Majesty?

_'Stupid woman…'_

Joker can't wrap his brain around it and that pisses him off. This was only supposed to be something to throw the pinkette off balance and let her guard down, that way he can get some answers. There's a million of them coating his tongue and lounging around in his mind, but are being too careful to come out. The mood needs to be set and everything prepared beforehand. If they lunge out at the wrong time, then what he's searching for will retreat into the shadows and be on high-alert.

Music, check. Room to move, check. Surprising the little witch, check. It's all here. Once she slowly starts descending the dirt steps into the hole he spent time digging, that's when the blade hidden in his jumpsuit can come out to play. There are several ways to get people talking that don't include carving into them. Occasionally, he comes across a person with an extra thick layer of skin, and chipping his precious knives doesn't seem too appealing.

And this woman is crafted from _titanium_.

It's a strange thing that's happening. There's no one being beaten or broken, at least in _this_ hall. He's not in the midst of some ingenious plot that will bring Gotham to its knees. Batman isn't throwing those heavy fists at his face or torso. No goons are being ordered around, while he cackles at their submissiveness. Nothing's going to explode or be torched at the moment…

So, what makes this entertaining?

Joker tries to mull it over as he twirls her around again, but keeps drawing a blank. He rarely looks for any rationale behind his own motives or actions. This is a situation _he_ created and pushed for, yet it's not having the anticipated results.

As expected, Sakura didn't see this coming. He knew she wouldn't, especially taking his personality into account. Dancing doesn't exactly fit into the whole 'terrorizing the city' concept, but as a man of _many_ talents, he enjoys proving people wrong.

What better way to throw to a person off then doing something completely out of character? There are so many secrets he wants to drag out of this woman. How will he effectively control her, without having a manual to refer to? If she's going to become a tool to use at his disposal, then it's a necessary evil. That's what he tells himself, anyway. Perhaps there's a little curiosity in the mix too, but he doesn't give a shit.

How does her ability work? Why are all the restraints so _useless_? What's the point of staying locked up in this hellhole for years? How can she walk on walls and so silently at that? Where does she come from? It's obvious the pinkette's not from Gotham. That became clear from their conversations. On a few rare occasions, he's picked up a _very_ slight accent, but she covers it up quickly and never answers any questions. It only makes finding the answers more tempting.

That's what this whole ruse was supposed to be about. Women are more willing to open up and reveal themselves when they feel comfortable and safe, especially when doing something 'intimate', per se. Using a heavy-hand, the way he usually does with men, won't work here. The clown has enough experience tinkering with people's minds to understand that psychological manipulation isn't a 'one size fits all' process and it's necessary to employ various methods of approach, depending on the person and circumstances.

Unlike any of the women he's dealt with, Sakura's very different. Most end up telling him anything he wants to know with only a glare or looming over them. He's tall with broad shoulders and isn't against using that to his advantage. Feeling small and insignificant is the first step to breaking them down _if_ the initial shock of his appearance doesn't do the trick. When they're afraid and vulnerable, chicks become desperate to find protection and security. Searching for some kind of warm blanket or arms to wrap around them and to know they'll be okay…

That's not the case with him and that knowledge only speeds up the process of interrogation. They quickly understand there's not an ounce of empathy or warmth in him and start talking to avoid what comes next. The clown likes to think of himself as an equal opportunist, and the good citizens of Gotham learned that the hard way. All deserve the chance of receiving his attention, men, _and_ women. It wouldn't be fair in these modern times to treat an entire gender differently, because of what's between their legs. _No_. People are people, no matter what they have or identify as, and all have the chance to meet the knife equally. Race, gender, religion, sexuality, nationality, political views… None of that shit _matters_. Everyone's skin weeps blood the same way.

_'Heh.'_

Joker can't pull that shit with this one and knows it. He's already tried intimidation and threats, but that's useless with her. The same way that carving into her is practically pointless. She'll just heal it right away and beat the crap out of him for doing it. Tying her to a chair will be next to impossible and there are currently no useful weapons on him, besides his tongue. A wise man plays on his strengths, not weaknesses. If he can't physically force her to submit, then there are other options available. No matter who they might be, women are suckers when it comes to their emotions and heart. That can't be helped, it's in their nature.

Obviously, 'what's-his-name' left a gaping hole in the pinkette's chest and that will be the point of entry. When his fingers can get through the crack in that impenetrable armor to wrap his hand around that useless organ, he'll be able to control her. The thought of how much fun they can have throughout the city makes his blood _sing_. Nothing will stop him and the Bat won't have any choice, but to come out and play. No one just _walks away_ from the Joker and leaves it at that.

_No one._

When he spins her back, Sakura smiles so wide and unabashed, the clown almost misses a step. For a split-second, it takes _him_ off guard and that's not meant to happen. _No_. This is about easing her into the mood to start talking before Cash gets into the control room and fumigates the entire asylum. The sight causes him to swallow hard and glare at a pane of glass they go by, preferring it to the expression she's making.

She's genuinely enjoying doing this with him and it's what he wanted, but eliciting a loathsome response. He can't remember if anyone's ever looked at him that way before. It causes the tick in his eye to act up and that annoys him. The witch picks up on the flow and rhythm quickly, just as he expected. From observing her throughout the weeks, it's clear she's light on her feet and graceful. Sneaking up on him _without_ making a sound is a feat most can never hope to accomplish. She managed to do it while dragging a corpse along.

_'Un-fucking-believable.'_

Joker already said he plans on keeping her and he's not sure what she took it as. Getting into that little pink head is an arduous task, but one he's up for. From the way she's responding to him, the pinkette might've taken it the wrong way. She's only a tool to be used and abused, whichever he feels like doing at the time. Anything else is a figment of her twisted imagination.

Sakura moves fluidly, almost like a wisp of smoke that can disappear at any moment. It causes his grip to tighten, so this doesn't end too soon. She didn't want to do this anyway, yet still followed through with it. He's not sure why, but does that really matter?

When she twirls and he pulls her back, her face brightens up and it's _staggering_. Heat licks just beneath the surface of his skin and he tries to strangle it as quickly as possible. Tension makes his muscle strain against the orange fabric of his jumpsuit and it makes some of his movements a little jerky. With a grunt, he cracks his neck to release some of it, before those sharp green eyes notice. Turns out to be useless, since it keeps building itself back up.

The dark pit in his sockets are rebellious little shits that revel in doing as they please, just like their owner. It's the grime on the walls that he wants to stare at, but his eyes have different plans. They trail back towards Sakura's face, carefully studying her features. For a brute, she has soft and delicate features that most women would hope to possess. If her outer appearance matched what's inside, she'd definitely look like King Kong. It causes people to underestimate her, himself included, but that can be quite an advantage if wielded properly.

_'She just needs a push in the right direction. I could own everything from Gotham to Midway with her by my side.'_

His eyes narrow at the thought. What _does_ he want? All his focus has been on showing _this_ city its true face and having fun along the way, but apart from that? Looking beyond his own plans is never something he pays any mind to. What's the point when death can burst through the door at any given moment?

For the last eight years, life has been all about fulfilling his own desires and acting on any sudden urges. Don't get him wrong, he plans everything very meticulously for a man 'without a plan', and is goal-oriented with an overzealous drive that pushes him forward. He wants to see blood? Someone weeps if for him, even if it's unwillingly. Needs to get off? There are a _few_ options to answer the call. Doesn't like the architecture of a building? It's gone by morning…

Reason is something he's never looked for in anything, other than to figure others out. Joker definitely doesn't apply that concept to himself or any random acts he commits. It's something he's always rejected and tried to snuff out.

And yet…

When those bright green eyes gaze up at him, he tries to find some sensible rationalization in them. Why does she look at him that way? What is she seeing that makes that stupid, quirky grin widen like that? It leaves an unrecognizable heavy sensation in his chest. He doesn't find it unpleasant, just bothersome. Not understanding something drives him up a wall.

This whole 'dance-thing' wasn't meant to be fun, only a different way of information gathering. _That's it_. However, the longer they do it, the more he finds himself not wanting to stop. Her hand feels so small in his, yet he's seen it make a crater in a cement wall using someone's body. Instinctively, he keeps his back straight to show her the difference in their size as a subconscious form of intimidation. That doesn't matter, and she couldn't care less. The witch is only humoring this farce because she _wants_ to. Nothing is stopping her from tearing away and going back to J-block, where she belongs for now. Knowing that only fans the flames of his ego so high, they can probably incinerate this entire building if it takes on a physical form.

When she stares off and becomes lost in her own thoughts, it sends him _reeling_. The clown knows that look, the one where a person's brooding over 'something else' and that makes him _angry_. This is about getting answers, not fucking daydreaming. He took the time to set this up and kindly teach her the moves, then she's not even going to pay attention to him?

How disrespectful… He feels the urge to slap her across the face and drag that pretty little mind back where it belongs, but holds back. That won't accomplish anything, except ending the night earlier than he'd like. There's not much time left until Cash and Jerry do their thing and he wants to make every minute count.

When he finally has her attention back on him and decides to start their little game, she doesn't seem too enthused. For some reason, it agitates him more than it should. That doesn't matter and he can think about it later when sitting alone in his cell with nothing to do and no one to bother him.

Instead of initiating the entire point of this little shindig, they keep moving and he can't find where to start anymore. It was all there, resting right on the tip of his tongue. He can taste the barbs and poison coating the surface, ready to come out. This is exactly what he wanted, right? So why isn't anything happening? Staring at her face, the anger that's constantly coiling right beneath his skin starts to wane, leaving him puzzled and frustrated. His eyes trail towards her mouth, remembering that she kissed him earlier.

_Why?_

Joker knows what he wants from her, but not the other way around. What does this woman desire or looking for in him? Is she just lonely? Then again, Harold _was_ around and the other guards and she could've used them to fill that empty void. The witch is insufferable and he doesn't like what she brings out in him. She makes him act like a fool and think about shit that has no business bouncing around in his mind.

Watching the subtle movements of her lips, he recalls how they felt against his. They're smooth and warm, more so than his imagination can cook up in the late nights. He groans in annoyance knowing that his dreams will adjust to the newly discovered texture.

Having someone near his mouth causes the alarms to blare in his head and instincts kick in to get them away. Last time a person was _that_ close, his face was carved open. Joker doesn't like anything being even an inch near his scars, let alone touching them. The witch could tear them open with her fingers, like ripping apart a piece of cheese and think nothing of it. She hasn't done that yet and seems content with just touching them for some wicked reason.

** _"I like the monster you already are and don't want to change any of it. I know what we both are and so do you... We're not the good guys in this story."_ **

Joker's never heard something so _ridiculous_ before. That's the first time anyone said they _like_ him being this way and doesn't want to change anything. Most people harp on about rehabilitation and integrating into society, especially Jerry and Harley. They've made it their personal mission to transform him into someone entirely different.

Why does he want to conform and join the scum that has always rejected his existence? That treat everyone that doesn't fit into the pretty little mold the masses have created like they're insane? The city chewed him up and spit the leftovers out on the sidewalk, then stepped over him _without_ a second thought. All because he doesn't think or believe the lies that are force-fed from the top brass? Over a facial disfigurement? Even if given the chance, he wouldn't get rid of his scars. They bring out people's true nature and serve as a constant reminder of what this world truly is.

If refusing to be like everyone else is considered insanity, then call him _Chief Nut_, because he's not falling for it. He'll stay this way, until his dying breath, whether it's fifty years from now or ten seconds. Death or abuse is worth staying true to himself and not picking up what society's putting down.

Is that how this woman feels too? Can that be the reason she stays locked in a pen all these years because she refuses to be what someone else is trying to force on her?

_'Hmm…'_

Sakura likes his scars, which is really weird, but that's not a problem. Weird is his middle name. He can tell by the way she looks at them. Most people react in a variety of the same ways, either disgust or fear, but this woman isn't scared of anything it seems. It feels strange when her lips brush against them or she traces the jagged marks with her fingers. The fact that he enjoys it makes him angry.

Joker doesn't want to desire _anything_. Not people, or sensations, and definitely not a certain future. There's never been a need for a path to form itself for him to walk down. Life has always revolved around violence with random splashes of hilarity. He doesn't believe in fate or some higher cause above trudging through murky water and seeing where it takes him. His soul is bathed in blood and created from napalm, ready to explode on a whim with anger so hot, it burns black.

That's how he feels as he stares at her lips. She's the distraction he never wanted, yet can't get away from. Even when the guards carted her off to J-block and he finally had the solitude he craved, it didn't stop. Not the barrage of thoughts, emotions, or those pesky dreams. They just keep going and it's driving him _mad_. The silence was deafening and only fueled his violent tendency to lash out. Killing Harold and the fake Jerry helped a little, but it wasn't enough.

An unbearable urge kept tugging on him to make the trek upstairs, to go and see the little witch that cast a spell on him. The clown's not entirely sure what it might be. Is it her magic? Maybe he just lusts after her and doesn't realize it? Does he want to talk to another person who _gets_ it? Or perhaps it's something else, entirely. Who knows? This entire thing started as a little game to see who can piss the other off the most and which one will die first.

Now, Joker's not even sure what to call whatever _this_ is between them. He and Sakura are definitely _not_ friends, yet they're not exactly enemies either. It's strange to find himself wanting to be around her, whether it's tossing around insults or just sitting on the floor, talking about nonsense. He can't remember when he's honestly enjoyed a person's company without any pretenses. Part of him will always be cautious, it's in his nature and that'll never change. At the same time, another side begrudgingly feels that he can relax around her and that a blade won't tear into his back when he's not looking. If Sakura's going to hurt him in any way, he's fairly confident that she'll do it to his face.

The idea that he might be able to trust someone is laughable in itself. People will always disappoint, even if they don't mean to. If he lets her scale those walls he built up throughout the years, it might be the biggest regret of his life. Why is he letting this happen?

Sakura might be asking him a question, but he's too distracted. Those disobedient little bastards in his sockets he wants to gouge out keep staring at her lips. They're soft, just like he imagined, and feel heavenly rubbing up against his scars. The muscle in his cheek jumps at the thought and his body stiffens at the idea forming. The pinkette does whatever she pleases, so why can't he? Would it really hurt just to let himself get lost for a little while? To enjoy something that he doesn't necessarily _have_ to break?

Nope. Nope. Fucking _nope_.

Biting harshly into the scar tissue lining his mouth, Joker feels his heart turning cold and mean. A nasty sensation blossoms in his chest that fills him with contempt, and he's not sure who it's directed towards—_himself_ or Sakura. This is all her fault, but also his own for willingly surrounding himself with this bullshit. She needs to go before he can't stop this train ride to hell.

Swallowing hard, his eyes trail down towards her neck. So pale and smooth, his hands can easily wrap around it without a single issue. After the first time he tried killing her, Joker can't forget the feel of it beneath his fingers. How soft her skin is, the warmth and contours, or the pulse pounding away under his touch. The clown wants to forget it all, and he'll try to make that happen.

It's that same train of thought that pushes him to reach for it, hoping to strangle her and forcing this to end. He refuses to become a jester for the 'Queen's' entertainment and being led down a path of her choosing. She's driving herself into his brain with the subtly of using a sledgehammer to nail in a railroad spike and he doesn't have her gorilla strength to dislodge it.

_'Sakura needs to die or I won't stop.'_

Getting ready to lunge, Joker freezes when he realizes what's happening from one look at his sleeve. _Purple_… Glancing down, the orange jumpsuit is completely gone, and he's wearing the infamous suit that Gotham dreads. Furrowing his brows, he looks back up to the pinkette, but she's still in the same clothes.

_'I haven't seen her in anything else, yet.'_

Sakura smirks and grabs his gloved hand, giving it a small tug. She wants to lead him somewhere, away from the prying eyes behind the glass. It didn't escape his notice that Victor was peeking from his cell when they glided by. The clown knows he still has plans on murdering her, especially from the looks he gives whenever she goes by. Nothing escapes Joker's attention, but Vicky's in for a sad awakening. He's not going to let anyone try to steal his thunder _or_ fun by taking the witch away. She's _his_ to do anything he wants with, whether it's killing or tormenting. Even back in the day, he's never been the kind of man that shares, and that won't change anytime soon.

_'This is a dream? I don't get it. When did it start? Oh, well… Fuck it.'_

It doesn't really matter at this point. Nothing can be done about it, besides going with the flow. Until someone or something wakes him up, this is it and that's fine. They come all the time anyway, and he's starting to find himself enjoying it. In this world, he can do or be whatever he wants and it won't impact reality in any way.

Joker can have an endless bloodbath with that Bat and no matter times he kills or tortures him, the real one is still out there, waiting to be dragged from his cave. Gotham can be burnt to the ground dozens of times over and ready for another go when he returns. _Sakura_… He can screw Sakura every which way, without dealing with any awkwardness or expectations when his eyes open. This plane is his playground, even if he doesn't always control the scenarios or what unfolds. Whether it becomes a nightmare or a dream is out of his hands, but he always likes the unpredictable nature of this place.

"Come on…" Sakura gives him another tug and he follows, wanting to see what'll happen this time. His eyes watch her hair sway back and forth as she leads him down the hall, taking note of how it reaches halfway down her back. It's the perfect length to wrap around his fist and still have some slack to pull on.

Where ya, ah, takin' me, doll?" She throws him a side glance and her lips curl up into a grin. He knows that look and smirks, feeling the energy pulsing through him. Within seconds, they're right in front of his cell and he resists the urge to grimace. He spends all day here as it is and was hoping to go somewhere a little more… _exciting_. Well, at least he'll have company this time.

Stepping into the small cell, it's strange to be wearing his suit in here. No matter how many times he's been dragged in this place, it's always in whatever soiled outfit the guards toss on.

Letting go of his hand, the pinkette smiles, and moves in close enough that he can smell her sweet scent over the asylum's repugnant stench. Reaching up, her fingers feel along the front of his green waistcoat, ghosting over the fabric and the folds of his purple trench coat. She seems fascinated by it, studying and taking in the textures with relish. This is the first time in his sleep that he's worn this around her. Leaning in, her nose grazes the material covering his chest and he can't take his eyes away from what she's doing, almost like he's entranced.

"You smell like gasoline… and _fire_." Joker blinks at the soft words, watching her burying her face against his chest and _breathing_ him in. The corner of his mouth quirks up, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation shooting through him. It starts right beneath the spot where she's laying her head and spreads out everywhere, all the way to his fingertips and toes.

_'Better that than shit, I guess…'_

Dainty hands run up along his pecs, massaging the rigid muscles with devote attention, trying to ease the tension that's constantly running through him. He likes this version of her the best. It's never clear which one he'll get until the first few minutes. Sometimes it's the kinky sadistic one or submissive masochist, then there's the mean witch, the adventurer that wants to run around the city and get into trouble, and also the woman who wants to _please_ him. Each is delectable in their own way, but the latter is his _favorite_ so far. She's a little mix of the others, all wrapped into one tempting little body. The difference is that she does things the others aren't willing to do.

They trail up towards his shoulders, pushing the coats out of the way and letting them drop onto the floor. He doesn't care, it's only a dream. A groan spills from his ruined mouth from the hands kneading his neck and shoulders, trying to work the knots out. She always has to get on her toes to do it, but he kind of likes how she goes out of her way to do it.

"Does that feel good?" He deftly nods at the question, letting his eyes flutter close. These dreams are so vivid, it's hard to tell what's real or not anymore. The asylum really needs to chill out with how much medication they're handing out like candy. The last time he was here, it wasn't even _this_ bad. Typically, his dreams are just soaring through pitch-black darkness with nothing and no one around.

"How about you sit down? I can take care of you better that way." Peeking from under one of his heavy lids, Joker sees her smirking and grabbing onto his wrist, trying to lead him towards the bed. He wants to set that goddamn mattress on fire, but it can wait. This is more entertaining and revenge can hold off until later.

Plopping down on the edge, the muscle in his cheek jumps as she steps in the large space between his knees. He always sits like that, whether it's in jail or just lounging around. When Sakura starts fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat, he swallows hard and tries to think about what to do with his hands. They're caught between resting on his thighs and snatching her, but he wants to see what she plans on doing to him this time.

It only takes her a few moments to get it completely off of him, before loosening his tie and starting on his purple dress shirt. Each button reveals the tan, marred chest beneath it and she gently presses her lips against his warm skin, leaving a scorching trail on her way down. Joker lets out a heavy breath, reaching forward to twist a stray pink lock between his fingers, reveling in the silky texture.

Yep, he _definitely_ likes this version of her. It the closest he imagines to the real one. The difference is that there's no need for games or fronts, and neither is trying to drag anything out of the other. Granted, it's mostly him that pulls that shit in reality, but who cares? This is his little world and nothing matters.

"Did you miss me?" Sakura looks at him from under those long lashes and he purses his lips. Why would she ask something like that? Glancing at the strands in his fingers, he's not sure what to say. At least this won't affect anything or be repeated, so whatever.

"What do ya think?" The pinkette seems to like that answer from the way she's grabbing his belt and yanking it off. This version is always so eager, even if she takes her time. It's hard for him to sit there and not lash out, but he can hold himself back occasionally. Some asshole once said that 'patience is a virtue', and that's how it plays out best here.

"I think you _did_. I know I missed you. I'm glad you're home." Joker's brow furrows as his eyes flicker around the small area. _Home? _Is she fucking nuts? Arkham will never be that or his place of residency. Unless that's not what she was referring to. Does she mean with her? That _she's_ home? He doesn't even know what that is, let alone feels like. Before, he thought a shoddy apartment might be that, but realized it's only a roof over his head.

_'What's home?'_

It sounds foreign, just like her name. The clown hasn't put much thought into that word in years. It might've meant something in a different lifetime, but he barely remembers anymore. A man from long ago had strange ideas about creating one, maybe even having someone waiting there for him. It used to be a dream, not unlike the one he's experiencing now.

A house that was all his, where no one can tell him what to do. It didn't have to be big or anything, just as long as he can have his privacy and the neighbors minded their own fucking business. Whenever he walked through the front door, there's always a certain person that's elated to see him and ask how his day's been. He'd complain about this bastard or another screwing something up and him having to fix it. They would listen and laugh at the gruff, unapologetic way he talks and genuinely care about what's being said, instead of pretending to. A quiet life he can call his own, where nothing's trying to run or being taken away. Having some confidence in knowing it'll still be there when he turns his head and looks back. That everything won't be on fire and burnt to ashes the moment he lets his guard down.

_Life like that doesn't exist._

Anger starts brewing inside and Joker grimaces. Why the hell does that have to pop up now of all times? Those stupid ideas should've died with Jack, along with the sentimentality he strangled long ago. It's this woman's fault. She brings out the kind of foolishness he despises the most.

Those thoughts come to a standstill when she unzips his pinstriped pants. This is one of the things he hates about her the most. She has an intolerable way of sidetracking him and pulling some of those malevolent feelings right out of him. Everything about her either calms the storm or makes it worse. The fact that she can have _any_ sway over that should be enough to murder her right here, right now.

_"Relax." _It comes out in a breathy whisper, not like the commands she usually enjoys giving. The clown's tongue snakes out to prod the rough skin around his mouth, as the tension in his muscles wanes. It's only a dream, so there's no reason to get worked up. Satisfied with the results, she leans forward to kiss the skin exposed by his open dress shirt, giggling when he instinctively flexes beneath the soft touch.

_'I hate her.'_

Despite thinking that, Joker still smirks. That fades quickly when she finishes unzipping his pants and pulls him free. Biting the inside of his lip, he watches her in anticipation as she ghosts her fingers along his length, practically marveling at the weight in her hand. He's about to tell her to stop teasing him, but it's almost like she already _knows_.

"Shit…" Sweat already starts forming on his brow when she wraps her lips around the tip, slowly taking him into her mouth. It's a sweet kind of torture the clown's not opposed to. He forces himself to sit there and take it, until that moment comes where patience flies right out the window, along with what's left of his sanity. If it was ever any there to begin with…

Dark eyes watch the pinkette working her way down his shaft, inch by inch. Her mouth is warm and wet, and he groans in appreciation. Fingers deftly reach out to bury themselves in her hair, giving a little tug. She moans at the small act and the vibrations send a jolt through his body.

He _likes_ seeing Sakura this way, and there's no reason not to admit it in this world. The witch on her knees, trying to force his cock down her throat, as if her sole purpose in life is to pleasure him… She's not doing it for some sort of gain, the way a prostitute or escort does.

There's a huge difference between a woman executing a service and a _real_ performance. The end of this battle doesn't result in money, jewelry, or raising any position. There's no one to answer to or beat her if she doesn't live up to expectations and he's not satisfied. None of that bullshit that's an everyday occurrence on the streets. She's only doing this because she _wants_ to, and that's all there is to it. Knowing that only makes this infinitely more exciting.

The 'Queen' is working _so_ hard for him, using her hands to stoke what can't fit in. It's not his fault the only things he's blessed with are a sharp mind and a big dick. She's going to have to deal with both, and he'll enjoy watching her try.

_"That's it." _Joker strokes her cheeks as it hollows out, relishing in the way her mouth is so _full_ of him. She keeps eye contact the entire time, and it's impressive. Most can't hold his gaze anyway, let alone doing it with his cock halfway down their throat.

_'Heh.'_

His knees are shaking and attempting to get them to stop is completely futile. When one of her hands rests on them, it only serves to make it worse. This woman's touch is electrifying, sending pulses throughout his body. There's a searing fire just beneath the surface that works its way through the clown's limbs and straight to his brain. The muscles in his face twitch as he grimaces, trying to ignore the sweat running down brow and abdomen.

A growl rumbles through his chest when she cups his balls in her palm, gently massaging them. She's in it to finish him, but that's not going to happen. As much as he likes the idea of prying that jaw open to see her mouth full of his cum, there are other things he wants to do tonight. That burning sensation is becoming unbearable, and he knows it's too close for comfort.

_"C'mere." _The fingers in her hair tighten and he yanks the pinkette off the floor. A little squeak is all she can manage when he rips the small woman up and crashes his mouth against hers. There's no resistance and he can feel her smiling against him as he grips her jaw to force it open. The taste of himself on her lips makes him snarl, bringing out the absolute worst inside.

She returns the kiss with as much vigor, biting and tearing at his mouth until red beads form on the rough tissue. A small hand presses against his chest, pulsing and feeling the erratic thrumming under his tan skin. He wants and _needs_ this more than even getting out of this goddamn asylum, and it's that train of thought that has his fingers coiling around her throat.

No, Joker isn't going to strangle her just yet. It's the way her breath stutters beneath the heavy-handed ministrations that's so appealing. Being choked during sex brings a high that can only be matched by blood. He _loves_ it when she cuts him and vice versa, tasting and sharing the fluids that keep them alive. There's something sacred about it in nature and being spilled. The human body does its damn best to keep it inside, but people work twice as hard to release it. The taste of their blood being passed between them is almost enough to get him off alone.

Sakura pulls back, panting and sweating, clinging onto the folds of his dress shirt. He quickly grabs the zipper on her jumpsuit and pulls on it, wanting to reveal the pale skin hidden behind it. His fingers make quick work of it in their impatience and yank on the fabric until it pools around her waist. The frigid air in the asylum already has her nipples hard, unless it's from being turned on. He's not sure but appreciates it either way.

She is a beauty, even if she drives him fucking _crazy_. There's no denying that, and he doesn't want to. The _best_ part is that he can break her, over and over again, and she can just keep putting herself back together. A slice across the back is gone within seconds, barely giving him enough time to gather a mouthful and let it coat his throat. There's no thinking about the repercussions or possibly ending the fun too soon. Her body is like a playground he can let loose in, whether it's tearing down the slide or leaving his artwork in places only his eyes can see.

Joker pulls the tie over his head and wrenches Sakura's arms behind her back. She arches into him, laying her chin against his shoulder to give him enough room to work. They both already know what he wants, and she's willing to let him have it. His knots are the best in the business and no one can get out of them, except for her. It would only take a moment to use that ridiculous strength to tear the fabric into pieces, but she doesn't and plays along.

_"Good girl." _He praises with a throaty growl, reveling in the submissive behavior. A small whimper in his ear sends a shiver down his spine as he finishes securing her wrists together. Being dominant over such a monster gives him a satisfaction the clown never realized he wanted until recently. What this world brings is unpredictable and constantly changes. Sometimes, it's him that's tied up and beaten, while the witch rides him all the way to hell. Their positions switch continuously, but his baser-self relishes in being the top dog, no matter the circumstance.

The orange jumpsuit is yanked until it drops to her ankles, leaving Sakura completely bare and vulnerable to his eyes. She doesn't shy away from his gaze and keeps herself there with unwavering confidence. It's no wonder... Day after day, the pinkette's forced to show it all to the staff whenever she needs anything, whether it's for a shower or physical. That'll change very soon, and everyone that caused it will have their eyes gouged out. He'll make sure of _that_. Harold and Jerry only had a taste of what's to come.

_'When they finally let me in the dining hall, I'll snag a spoon for the occasion.'_

Sakura's light, and it takes very little effort to flip her onto the mattress. The pinkette's head rests on his pillow as she pants, arching back when he positions himself behind her. It's one hell of a sight to see everything so _exposed_ and he's drinking it up. Part of him wonders what the real deal's like since this is only his imagination. After all, he didn't get the texture of her lips right until experiencing them for himself.

_"J-J…"_ She breathes out, causing his brow to furrow. It's not the soft plea that confuses him, but the name that came out. _J_… That's what she called him earlier in the hallway. When Harley says Mr. J, it just doesn't sound right. He doesn't know what he wants these women to call him, but it's starting to aggravate his nerves and it's not clear why.

_'Doesn't matter. Just fuck her into the mattress, until she can't walk and needs me to carry her back to J-block…'_

Joker shoves two fingers into her to distract himself, watching with rapt attention the way her body trembles at the intrusion. Nothing can keep his mind away from pesky thoughts like screaming and a tight pussy crushing him. He works his way through the muscles trying to push him out, groaning at how wet she already is.

_'For me.'_

The wonderful fog the witch brings with her starts clouding his mind. It's a welcome reprieve from the consistent labor going on upstairs, like a machine that never turns off. He rarely gets a moment of absolute silence with his brain constantly on overdrive. That's how he operates and always will. It's when he slows down that it'll be the end of him.

Sakura cries out, pulling at the restraints and starting to bite on the pillow when a callused thumb firmly presses down onto her clit. The texture is harsh and unforgiving—_he knows_—but will make her feel divine in the long run when she's shrieking and cumming on his fingers. The digits inside curl and feel along her walls, trying to drag every sound out. The moans, gasps, and curses… They're like music to his ears and he's the conductor.

The clown freezes when Sakura's movements cause the pillow to shift. No… He has to move her, _now_. If she sees what's under there, it might give off the wrong idea. Pulling out, the clown latches onto the tie and yanks the pinkette off the mattress and closer towards him. The burning sensation in her arms and shoulders forces her to let go of the dingy pillowcase when she gasps, but he ignores it.

He can only imagine the shit that'll come from her lips if she has the chance to glance at _those_. That'll completely ruin whatever's left of this dream and be the biggest buzzkill, since Gordon. Nope. Nope. _Not happening_. Then, he'll _have_ to kill her to cover up this stupid debacle. The real one's still around somewhere, so no big deal.

"J, the knife…" She's panting with her back against his sweaty chest, craning her neck to look up at him. Clicking his tongue, Joker turns to glare at the wall to avoid her gaze. He's overreacting over something completely moronic. Who cares if she sees them, anyway? It's not like this one can tell another soul. Whatever happens here, stays here.

"Yeah, yeah…" It's somewhere on the bed, he knows it. There's always a blade nearby when he wants to use it. He'll just break a few layers to heighten the pleasure by mixing it with pain. They go hand-in-hand, like many things in this world do.

Pain, pleasure. Love, hate. War, peace. Dominance, submission. One ends up leading into the other and vice versa, in a constant struggle to be on top.

_'Where is it?'_

He keeps a tight hold on her, so she doesn't fall against the mattress. It has to be wrapped up in one of the sheets…

* * *

"Mr. J? Mr. J?!" Someone's yelling out his name and banging on the glass. It sounds like there are a few people there if the grumbling is anything to go by.

_'Fuck…'_

Joker's eyes fly open, and he's completely discombobulated. The New York accent coming from the hall is grating on his ears and he moves his hand around, looking for the knife to silence it.

_'That was only a dream.'_

The movements still as he blinks, staring up at the filthy ceiling. That's right… It was all a dream. When did it begin? He's sure that he and Sakura were dancing until-

_'Did she knock me out when I was going to strangle her?'_

That's probably what happened. She's too sharp when it comes to murderous intent, and the fact that he's in bed is proof of that. It also proves the pinkette doesn't want to kill him, either. Why didn't she leave him in the hallway to get screwed with the others? He would've been thrown into the same hall as her, after receiving Jerry's special care. Unless she's not planning on stay up there… Why waste her energy in dragging him back to his cell and making it appear that he was here the whole time?

_'Hmm…'_

"Mr. J? You're awake… Are you okay?" Harleen's voice is obnoxiously loud and annoying after just waking up. Imagine waking up to _that_ every morning... Too bad for the dumbass that gets stuck with her. She's worse than a goddamn alarm clock. Good thing there isn't a knife in the sheets or he might've cut her throat.

_"Gahh!"_ Joker growls out, pushing himself up on the mattress. His head is still swimming after whatever the witch did to him, but it's not as bad as last time. She must've wanted him to be able to get up and move around. Scratching his forehead, the clown's lips curl up into a grimace. It feels like getting up after a long night drinking and everything's sluggish and heavy.

_'Better that, than paralyzed or dead.'_

"You were in here the whole time?" The blonde sounds hopeful and he's not sure what's happened after losing consciousness, but he knows what role to play.

"_Whole time?_ Why the hell ya here so damn late? Oh, don't tell me you're feeling lonely and came to visit me? _Hmm?" _The words bring the exact reaction he's expecting. The doctor's face flushes and she shifts on her feet. There are a few guards with her that are probably hoping to lay into him if there's any confirmation he was part of the mess the asylum turned into. He won't say a damn thing and let whoever they caught take the blame.

"Stop joking around. I'm here because of the incident and wanted to make sure all of my patients are safe." It's a struggle to keep the retorts forming in his head to stay put. She's only here to make sure her pets are safe? _Bullshit_. A phone call can answer that question, without driving all the way here. He'd put his bottom dollar down that this is the first place she stopped, after talking to good ol' Jerry. The staff might fall for the lame excuses, but he won't.

"What incident? Did the employees throw a party in the staff room and forget to use me as a piñata again?" The people standing outside of his cell cringe as he howls at his own joke. They might not think it's funny, but he finds it _hilarious_.

"Are you saying that you don't know what Dr. Quinzel is talking about? That you _slept_ through an entire _riot?"_ One of the guards he doesn't recognize steps closer to the glass, getting louder with each passing moment. Of course, he didn't sleep through the _entire_ thing, but technically he was out of it for the ending.

_'They call that a fucking riot? Boy, these guys have no idea! Haha!'_

"There was a riot, and I missed out? _Tch_. That's a real shame… Would've been a good time to get some exercise." Joker smiles widely, making sure the guards can all see his teeth. They _hate_ that, and it's always good for a laugh.

"You piece of shit-"

Harleen puts her hand up, effectively stopping the long-winded tirade that's building up. They all already know what's going to follow. 'You piece of shit, so-and-so died. This many people were hurt. Stop laughing, you _freak_.' Always the same shit spun in a different swirl. He couldn't care less. All their lives are meaningless toys for him to break and tinker with. Not a single person matters to him in the grand scheme of things.

They don't _get_ him, not even a little.

Joker loves what he does and will never stop. He _enjoys_ killing people and destroying everything. It's not some phase that can be changed or a slate that needs to be wiped clean. The blood can stain his hands forever and that's how he wants it to be. This isn't some mental issue that therapy or medication can cure. No. This is _who_ he is. The planning will never stop and violence will always be a part of him.

The look Harleen's giving him only proves that she doesn't get it, either. That stupidly hopeful expression and elation at the thought of him not having a part in what happened. He fucking orchestrated it, and she refuses to even _think_ he might have. Sakura knew right away who was to blame and didn't hesitate to call him out on it. The witch wasn't worried she could've been wrong or that he'd be angry at the accusation because she _knows_.

_'Wait a minute…'_

Sakura knocked him out and tossed his ass into bed… She messed with his sheets and positioned his body the way he usually lays down.

Jumping up on the mattress, Joker snatches his pillow up and his eyes fly open. They're _gone_. His cards _aren't_ there. Swallowing hard, sweat trickles down the side of his forehead and an unfamiliar sensation punches him in the gut.

_'No…'_

Leaping off the bed, he ignores the looks and questions from the people watching him like an animal at the zoo as he starts searching. The pillowcase is torn off and his eyes quickly dart around. He starts ripping the sheets rip off the mattress and shaking them out.

"What are you doing, clown?" The same gruff guard asks, tapping his nightstick against the glass. There's no time for their bullshit right now.

_"Fuck off!"_

The useless sheets are thrown to the floor in his haste as anger gets the best of him. Fingers reach down to feel around the bed's frame, in case they might've slipped from him moving around. _Not there._ He grabs the corner of the mattress and throws it against the wall.

"Mr. J! What are you doing?" The clown wants to tell that bitch to shut the fuck up, but he's too preoccupied. They have to be here, _somewhere_. Looking at the bare floor, his hands buried themselves in his messy waves, wanting to tear them out from the roots. He yells angrily, kicking the metal edge, without a single care if his toes break.

That bitch not only _saw_ his cards but _stole_ them….

This entire asylum's about to be burnt to the _ground_.


	20. Illusions

**A/N:** This took a little longer than intended, but here we are! This ended up being over 16k, so I broke it down and will upload the next one soon. Oh, and for anyone interested... I created a JokeSaku page on tumblr that has stories, moodboards, and fanart dedicated to this tiny ship. All work that isn't mine is posted with permission with links to the original artist/writer. I go by the same username on all sites for those who'd like to check it out. Thanks for all the love and support!

* * *

"Dammit…" Sakura stares at the filthy wall, mindlessly tapping her bare feet together on the mattress. With nothing to do in J-block as it is, she'd normally be sleeping right now. Apparently, not today... No rest for the wicked.

With the chaos brought on by the clown's antics, the asylum's been buzzing all night and long into the morning. That's natural, and she'd expect nothing less. Rounding up the unconscious prisoners is the easy part, but taking care of the rest? How are they going to make up for the gaping hole in staff when no one wants to work here, anyway? What's stopping this from getting out into the media? It's not a secret the facility's controversial. Dozens of reporters would love to get their hands on a juicy scoop.

With the Joker incarcerated and Batman missing, what headlines will grab the mass's attention? The D.A. busting a small string of drug dealers? Funding for schools? Someone trying and miserably failing to rob a bank? No one gives a shit about any of that in this city. They want criminals on the run, explosions, threats, high-profile murders.

_'Joker really spoiled these people. They claim to want peace, yet relish hearing about devastation as long as it doesn't inconvenience their comfort.' _

She eavesdropped on the guards the other day on the way to her 'therapy' session. Complaints about Gotham Times becoming dull, needing some spicing up. When the clown was wreaking havoc, everyone wanted it to stop, crying about how terrifying it is. Now that things are quieting down, they're bored…

_'No happy medium, is there?'_

A break-out in Arkham resulting in the deaths of prisoners and guards will really draw attention from every corner of Gotham. From politicians and reporters, to underlings waiting for their bosses to break-out. The deceased staff's family members will demand answers. That's the _last_ thing Jeremiah wants. His integrity will be called into question. How the facility's run will be looked into and there's a multitude of things he doesn't want getting outside of these walls. Ones that may land him right into a straightjacket with the rest of the inmates.

_'That's exactly where he belongs, even if the Great One himself hasn't realized it yet.' _

Clicking her tongue, Sakura glares up at the ceiling in agitation. Solitary confinement is an entirely different ballgame compared to the rest of the asylum. No one to observe or talk to, very little space to move around, and worst of all… _no sound_.

That's the part that gets to her the most. The silence is deafening, driving the pinkette up a wall. Without any books or mad ramblings to keep her preoccupied, she's taken to following the auras throughout the building. Being locked-up doesn't mean she can't use all this extra time productively. There will come a point where everything will change. Someone will make a move in this stalemate she's found herself in, and when that happens…

_'I'll go down, but it'll be swinging.'_

It's around that time of the year when _he_ makes his annual visits as a reminder not to get too comfortable. That's not a problem. How can she? Being incarcerated in a strange world with people completely out of their mind is more than enough to keep the pinkette on her toes, regardless if that bastard comes or not. It's not clear what part of this game he finds so tantalizing. Trudging up the past to cause her more pain? To rub in the difference in their social standing? It's all a big joke, isn't it? A skilled kunoichi of Konohagakure being imprisoned by people who couldn't pose a threat to even a genin. Humiliating… but still her own choice.

_'These men and their jokes. They all think they're so damn funny.' _

Reaching into the pocket of her jumpsuit, Sakura pulls out the two cards taken from under the clown's pillow last night. Jack of Spades and Queen of Hearts. Staring at the images, she snorts through her nose in amusement. What's the point of keeping these two separated from the rest? Looking for reason in the madman's actions seems laughable in itself. In the same token, there's always a motive behind everything he does, even if it's not apparent to others. Asking him isn't an option. He'll outright deny any suggestion, whether or not it's on the mark. Thinking of him as being sentimental in any sense is almost enough to make her giggle.

"Hahh… _As if._ That bastard." She whispers, closing her eyes. Shifting on the bed, the pinkette mindlessly rolls her head against the wall, trying to make sense of everything. Figuring out the others beneath this roof in a piece of cake. Joker is an entirely different story. The moment Sakura thinks she has her finger on something, he goes for the throat.

_Literally_.

"Hahaha…" Glancing down at the cards, a smile creeps across her lips. He knows and is positively _livid_.

It was late last night when his murderous intent spiked higher than she's ever felt before suddenly diminishing. That can only mean one thing. Joker realized she stole his 'precious possession' and went on a rampage, more than likely wanting to make his way to J-block. The guards outside of his cell must've had a field day. After dealing with the aftermath of a break-out, the last thing they needed is a mad clown going on the warpath. If Harleen's distress and anger are anything to go by, they probably knocked him unconscious.

If there's one thing gained from all this time in the asylum, it's that she's more in-tune with her senses and chakra manipulation. The pinkette's able to _feel_ him several floors down in D-block. He's still angry, more than likely strapped to the bed, and plotting her murder once again. All over some cards… It's not the items themselves that have him all pissy, but what they might mean.

Sakura will know for sure soon enough. She had a _very_ interesting conversation with His Holiness himself this morning, bright and early. Of course, that would happen. The staff wanted to know why her cell was empty, how the restraints came off, and all about the corpse lying on the floor. That's to be expected, and the pinkette was more than prepared for their questions. Four times since last night she had to recount every little detail. The only thing that surprised her is Jeremiah…

…

A door opens to a familiar room as a guard grips her bicep, making of a show of guiding the small woman along. A necessity for the top brass to witness they're able to do their job, unlike those on duty last night. After the smoke clears, there's no doubt some major changes will be implemented, including a change in the roster.

Green eyes wince at how _white_ the room is, from the recently painted walls to the blaring bulbs in the ceiling. It's too much of a difference compared to the dreary blocks the inmates are accustomed to.

To make matters worse, the coats of the people sitting around a table are just as bright. Far too clean for a place like this. It just makes it abundantly clear they're not as 'hands-on' as they profess. The guards and orderlies do all the dirty work while they sit there, staring down the ridge of their noses at everyone else. Far too good and educated to get a smudge on their pristine clothes.

"Patient 0802… Please have a seat." Jeremiah knows Sakura despises being referred to by a number, yet does it anyway. She's a goddamn human being, not a product that needs a stock code. He's the one who claims the staff won't use their 'patient number' if they have their real name.

_'Another narcissistic hypocrite, just like the clown.'_

Drawing in a breath, the pinkette lets the guard move her towards the chair closest to the door. With a quick glance around the room, she notes everyone who's present before flopping down. The Emperor, his sidekick—_Alyce_, Harleen, Terry, a very pallid Derek, and a couple of guards that no one cares about.

_'Is this necessary?'_

Do they really need everyone and their mother assembled just for this? Doesn't Alyce have anything better to do than be a shadow? It's not like there wasn't a break-out last night and the asylum's a mess. She's always stuck to Jeremiah like glue. Guess that kind of work is beneath her.

_"Patient 0802."_ Sakura can already feel the vein in her forehead throb. "We looked over the statements you gave the Head of Security… and Mr. Saito's." From her peripheral, the pinkette notices Terry staring at the floor, trying to avoid eye-contact from those sitting around the table. It doesn't take a genius to realize how nerve-wracking this must be for him. He's inexperienced as it is, without throwing in all that's happened. She's sympathetic towards his position, yet needs him to keep it together for now.

_After all, Terry owes her._

Sakura could've easily kept walking instead of healing him. Nine times out of ten, the other inmates would've done the same or finished the job after toying with him. Fortunately for the guard, she's not like the rest. Despite what the last few years have done to her, she'll always be a medic. One that can't stand idly by and allow an innocent person to suffer for no reason.

She saved his life and avenged him by killing Sid, his attacker. Now, he needs to keep his end of the bargain.

"Okay? I assumed that's why I'm here…" Alyce narrows her gaze at the pinkette's sarcastic tone, ready to jump to Jeremiah's defense. He quickly raises a hand, effectively silencing his protégé. Opening and closing her mouth, the brunette bites her tongue and sits back in the chair. Everyone knows she won't defy the word of God.

"Yes, of course. I don't believe there's any reason for you to recount the events a fifth time as they line up perfectly with Mr. Saito's and the evidence from your previous cell in J-block. I'm sure you understand there will be _consequences_ for actions, correct? This will have an impact your assessment, aside from the incident earlier this week." He's attempting to control his facial expression, but the sharp green eyes from across the table can see the corners of his mouth slightly curl up.

"Hn. That's perfectly fine… I expected no less from the board. I'm sure when contemplating my 'consequences', you'll take in mind the lives that could've been lost in Moxley's rampage from the staff's inability to properly control their patients. How the guards put my own and other's safety in danger from their misconduct. I could've been killed! How do you think my benefactor would react to that?" The older man's smirk quickly drops at her words, losing the little color it had as the blood drains from his face.

_'I've got him by the balls now, just by mentioning that man.' _

"Better question—_How do you think his lawyers will react?_ Surely you understand there'd be an investigation. If he hears about what occurred last night… Well… _Heh_…" Sakura chuckles sweetly, watching the sweat forming on Jeremiah's brow. Now it's his turn to squirm, knowing what'll happen if _he_ gets involved.

"Excuse me?!" Harleen smacks her hand against the table and stands up. Tearing her gaze away from the asylum's head, the pinkette stares at the angry doctor. The chains rattle under the table as she shifts against the chair, rubbing her gloved hands together.

"_Sit down_, Dr. Quinzel!" Hearing the older man raise his voice startles everyone in the room, especially the blonde. Turning away from the smug pinkette, she glances at her employer in shock. The tone by itself is a slap across the face and her expression gives it away, showing the hurt behind those weary blue eyes. This man is the one person she's constantly trying to prove her worth to, who can make or break the path she's chosen in Arkham. Most importantly, he decides if she continues to be _Mr. J's_ psychiatrist.

Pursing her lips, Harleen draws in a sharp breath, trying to calm herself down. From a single glance, Sakura can see that she's becoming worn down. The shadows under her eyes prove the doctor's having difficulty sleeping, probably from fretting over patients and work. The protruding clavicles under her white cloak show the slim woman's lost weight over the last few weeks, which hasn't happened in the last year since coming into the asylum. The bright blonde hair twisted into a bun is slightly messy, no longer the meticulous up-do. Something has changed in Harleen and the pinkette has a pretty good idea of what it's from.

_'Joker… He's getting to her. That blade for a tongue is sliding beneath the surface of her skin. I can see it clear as day. No wonder Jeremiah took over some sessions.'_

"As you were saying, Miss Haruno." The asylum head pays no mind when Harleen drops back into her seat, visibly upset at the sudden lash.

_'Now, it's Miss Haruno? How quickly things change when veiled threats are thrown into the air.'_

"Ah. Where was I?" Tilting her head back, she feigns searching for the place where they left off. The longer she takes, the more on edge they become. The ball's in her court right now and the people staring at her know it. Whether her threats have truth to them doesn't matter. Jeremiah's not in the position to try his luck, especially with all that's already on his plate. The deaths of seven guards, nine patients, and a whirlwind of bullshit on the horizon. Does he really want to get on the bad side of a man that can have this entire facility closed down in a single day? The person who contributes as much, if not more, than Wayne Enterprises? The former has been dropping large sums for the last three years, while the other just started right before the clown was dragged in. Government funding and volunteer donation aren't enough to keep the asylum running.

"Yes… I think it's fair to say his company's _generous_ funding comes with the promise of my care and safety. The judge may have ordered me to stay here, but there's nothing forcing him to keep filling your pockets. If I die, all of that disappears. If he finds out what happened last night, I'm sure a quick transfer to another facility would be easy for him to arrange and they'd be more than willing to accept his patronage."

From the expressions on the doctor's faces, that little tidbit hadn't crossed their minds. Jeremiah is so used to having all the control in his hands that he probably hasn't been shoved into a corner in a long time.

To be honest, this isn't Sakura's style. After three long years, not once has she ever used that man as a threat, even when the opportunity presented itself. Doing this is beneath her, yet sometimes people have to do things they don't like to get things done. It's not like she'd follow through with it anyway… The person she's using as a shield would be more than delighted to find out life in here is terrible.

He _wants_ it that way.

The head of the asylum stares her down, ignoring the glasses sliding along the bridge of his nose. She can see the wheels turning in his head from looking into those beady eyes, knowing the older man is playing out various scenarios and outcomes. Weighing his options and the impact they may have on the facility. The longevity of the asylum is his primary goal, and for that to happen, money is a large factor. Every bit counts and there's too much going on without starting another battle.

_'Come on… You know you don't need this shit, jiji. Ask me what I want already. I don't give a damn about the punishments. That's nothing.'_

Sakura can _feel_ Alyce burning a hole through her without glancing at the brunette. She agitatedly plays with the ribbons twisted through her dark locks, glancing between her employer and the woman he's scrutinizing. The room is silent as the words sink into people around the table, knowing the next move has to come from Jeremiah. He has the final say in what happens in this building and is completely on edge, ready to shut down anyone that tries to interrupt his internal debate.

Lacing his fingers together, the doctor leans forward with a heavy sigh, looking at the pinkette from over the top of his glasses. They both know that time of the year for her annual visit, which only makes this situation even more dire. With the loss of personnel and damages throughout the building, he will need help to fix this mess. That man can pull the strings necessary to make it happen.

"Very… _interesting_. I don't think I've quite seen this side of you, Miss Haruno. After _everything_ that's happened over the last few years…" He trails off, throwing a knowing look when she squirms in her seat at the meaning behind those words. "You've never resorted to threats, thinly veiled or not. There's _something_ you want. Enough that you're willing to put this facility and all its patients in jeopardy. Cocking his head to the side, Jeremiah's eyes narrow on the pinkette, watching her carefully. "_What is it?"_

_'Finally… Took him long enough.'_

"I want out of _solitary_. Let me go back to my old cell. The door is already fixed, so—"

"Absolutely not!" Harleen interjects, whirling around in the chair towards her employer. A handful of light blonde hair falls from her messy bun from the sudden movement. "Dr. Arkham, you can't humor these demands. Yes, we can agree that her actions _might _have saved a few lives, but that fact remains that she took some as well. I don't think it's in anyone's best interest to move her back to D-block. This is for her and my other patient's safety. The one she attacked in the intent to _kill_. He'll be placed back into the cell right across from her tomorrow and… This is just asking for _trouble!"_

_'… Back in his cell tomorrow? Joker's definitely in D-Block right now. Does that mean he'll be in solitary soon? So… Did he act out last night, after all? What a moron. All over some damn cards. Actually, this gives me a great idea.'_

A smirk plays across Sakura's lips at the thought. Ideas form in her head about what to do next. It's been a while since she's really flexed her chakra muscles. This might even wipe the smug look right off that bastard's face.

Apparently, the young doctor thinks the small smile is for her. "Do you think this is funny? Dr. Ark—"

"Everyone out. _Now_." The commanding tone is his voice leaves no room for question, even as the women on either side of him protest. To the pinkette, it's nothing more than buzzing in the background. Inconsequential and nothing more than a waste of time.

Harleen's visibly exhausted, yet still has enough in the reserves to get riled up over _Mr. J_. After observing her for the last year, there's no shadow of a doubt about the changes taking place in the blonde's personality. The impressive level of patience she's always exhumed is waning thin and the internal struggle finally beginning to surface. Instead of trying to keep a level-head and listening to the top brass, the young doctor is speaking out, even to the man she's so hellbent on proving herself to. Just a few months ago, she would've been too self-aware to interrupt the head of the asylum, let alone have an outburst.

_'Even since Bozo was dragged in, she began changing… Slowly but surely. The person hiding behind all those pleasantries and fancy words is emerging. This will be interesting to watch. She just better stop getting in the way.'_

Reluctantly, those others get up to leave. It's a simple task to ignore the expressions of those filing past. Looks of 'don't you fucking dare try something' and 'you'll have a bullet in your head before getting around the table'. Reading them is easier than the medical books littering her old cell's floor. They don't have to say anything. It's as if the staff's thoughts take the shape of words in their eyes alone.

Alyce leans down toward her mentor, conversing in hushed voices on which guards to leave and where. After all, they know full well Sakura can get through bulletproof glass. Is leaving the head of their asylum in a room with such a person a good idea? It doesn't really matter. If she wanted to go on a rampage, this entire building would've been demolished years ago along with everyone in it.

Whether they realize that isn't her problem.

Within a matter of minutes, the _painfully_ white room is empty, save for the pinkette and Jeremiah. A handful of guards are stationed right outside the door, but there's no point. The doctor staring her down knows she has no intention of attacking him, regardless of the restraints being used. This is about striking a deal, one where they can both benefit from the outcome.

"First, I would like to apologize on my staff's behalf. As you know, much has happened since last night. Everyone's a bit… _weary_, so to speak. Losing coworkers and patients they're accustomed to seeing on a daily basis will have an impact on even the best professionals." The older man sighs, pushing the descending glassed up the bridge of his nose. "I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot quite a few times, yet I believe there's always been a sense of mutual respect between us. Am I correct in that assumption?"

The buzzing from the lights overhead fills the room as Sakura sits back in her chair, scrutinizing him. Mutual respect? That's almost enough to cause her to burst out laughing. This person has a sense of humor, just not the kind she appreciates. Everything's always hidden under an exterior of professionalism and honeyed words, yet she sees these people for what they are. Despite that, she slowly nods. It's not that she agrees with him. That's far from the truth. They probably won't ever see eye-to-eye, and that's fine as long as this turns in her favor. It's the only way to maneuver around here without causing a scene.

_'To not draw attention…' _

"My mission is to help _every_ patient find rehabilitation. That's all I truly desire and the reason I took over this facility after my uncle. You were here during that last year and witnessed what happened. How everything _spiraled_ downward. I can't allow history to repeat itself in any form. Last night showed me this asylum needs to take a step in the right direction to keep stability. I'm speaking to you in earnest, not as a doctor to a patient, but from a person who wants to cure others to a _medic_." Sakura's eyes narrow at his words, quickly reading between the lines and drinking them in.

In the beginning, when the translator mentioned she claimed to be a medic, they laughed it off as the ramblings of a mentally unstable woman. Since then, the pinkette refused to talk about it to anyone of authority, no matter which doctor tried bringing it up after going through her file from the court case. This is the first time anyone, let alone Jeremiah, acknowledged that, even if it's only to buy favor. While being an egomaniac, this man still understands that he'll need some aid to make his _dreams_ come true.

"Believe it or not, I get what you're saying, Dr. Arkham. I listen and pay attention to _everything_. We both know the position the asylum's in and what it'll take to fix that. All I'm asking for is to go back to my old cell… and maybe a little time in the community room. I don't care about the assessment. I'm not getting approved, anyway. This is a win-win situation. I get what I want and your ambition continues to get funding. There's always the possibility of me putting in a good word to get more, you know…" A crooked grin passes across the pinkette's face as she leans closer towards the table, arching a brow. Her words honestly hold little weight with money being involved, but he doesn't need to know that.

Jeremiah rubs his chin, contemplating her offer. The man is known by those who've been here for years to try covering up incidences that occur in the facility. Anything that might make him look bad to the public or cause the asylum to be shutdown. That hasn't stopped staff from speaking out from time to time, but those voices are quickly silenced. This entire place is a farce, and a cesspool filled with the worst this city has to offer. It only continues to stand because Blackgate is ill-equipped to handle the job.

"Interesting proposition, Miss Haruno… As much as I despise saying this, sometimes we have to _overlook_ certain things to reach progress, even if it's against everything we stand for. This facility has its hands full, and what happened earlier this week is the least of our problems. Perhaps you and I can reach an agreement of sorts… On one condition." Seeing the smile on his face causes the pinkette to feel wary of him. Whatever he has in mind can't be anything good. At least for her.

"And that is?" Tapping her foot against the tiled floor, Sakura doesn't like where this is going. Whatever he wants won't be anything she can't handle, but that doesn't mean it won't be a bother.

"I was looking over your files the other day… Physical performed by the nurses, blood work, charts, etc. You have quite a _unique_ constitution, to say the least." Placing his hands against the table, the older man pushes the glasses up further. The light from above reflects off the lenses, making it hard to see the eyes behind them. Unfortunately, Sakura can and has an inkling of where this is going.

"I find it _very_ intriguing."

…..

_'So… Jeremiah wants to use me as a guinea pig in his little experiments. That's what he was alluding to.'_

Those exact words didn't have to come out for her to understand the meaning behind them. Why else would he be so interested in how her body works? There's no doubt this man's preparing to take his 'treatments' to the next level. There's a good possibility he's scouring all the patient's files to find inmates with strong constitutions that might be able to endure whatever's being planned.

Jeremiah is following in Amadeus's footsteps, whether he realizes it or not. Perhaps it's all intentional, and he wants to continue where his uncle left off before the mental instability derailed any progress.

_'Shit… This is bad. The same thing will happen as last time. I was healing the clown after his treatments, so they might think his body can endure more than it can. The staff also despises him. Will he be chosen as well?' _

Glancing at the cards in her hand, Sakura can't help feeling frustrated. The more things get out of control in the asylum, the closer Jeremiah is to losing his shit. Joker is the reason for the chaos that's pushing everyone to their limits, even if she's the only one that truly knows about it. Killing him is the easiest solution to calm the storm that's brewing. Eliminating the clown will allow the staff to stabilize the entire building and regroup.

Back in Konohagakure, if a shinobi put the village at risk, along with all its people… They were taken care of discretely, if possible.

_'What should I do?'_

This isn't a simple choice. On one hand, Joker is a menace and deserves whatever comes his way. The man relishes causing havoc in every form, with no intention of stopping soon. Even if he _might've_ had a terrible past, that doesn't excuse the terrible acts he commits. On the other hand… Jeremiah will inevitably go down a similar route as Amadeus. It's been clear to the pinkette for a while now. Not only that, but if she kills the clown, everyone will point fingers at her after what happened earlier in the week. Plus, there's Harleen…

**_"I don't think of you like that at all. There are no stupid ideals I want to push onto you. I like the monster you already are... Don't want to change any of it. I know what we both are and so do you... We're not the good guys in this story."_**

_'Did I really mean that? That bastard tried to kill me a few times now and probably will again. Why am I doing this to myself? All he plans on doing is using my abilities to cause trouble, even if there might be something else there. He'll never admit it... Why do I always find these assholes that treat me like shit?!'_

"Arghh!" Tossing the cards onto the bed, Sakura growls out in annoyance, kicking her feet around the messy sheets. No option feels right and everything's going to shit regardless of what she does. Destroying the entire place will get rid of all those pesky problems just to draw an even bigger one into the fold.

Keeping Joker alive will only bring pain and misfortune to everyone… including her.

_'I don't want to kill him. What would Tsunade-sama do in this predicament? I don't need to have any more regrets.' _

That's an easy one. She'd smash him into dust the first time he tried anything. Then again, her shishou admitted during one of her sake binges to putting everything on the line just at the _prospect_ of Orochimaru bringing her loved ones back.

_'Loved ones…'_

Trying to shake the thoughts from her head, the pinkette bits down hard into her lip. No, she doesn't carry those kinds of feelings anymore… especially towards Joker, of all people. That died long ago after waking up in Gotham. She doesn't know what to call this 'thing' that's going on between them. Ending him will stop it in its tracks, but is that what she really wants? Just to prolong the inevitable downfall of Arkham? All her life, she's always been at the mercy of other's whims and emotions. Sitting by idly won't change anything. If the world falls apart again, at least this time it might turn out differently.

_"Hmm?"_ Pushing herself from against the wall, Sakura quirks a brow towards the door. That man… Terry. The young guard has been pacing back and forth for some time now, stopping right outside every so often. Is it time? What the hell is he waiting for?

Even if she yells out, he probably won't hear a thing without opening the slot. Just another wonderful part about being in solitary. There has to be some kind of law against that. If a patient genuinely needs help, their shouts fall on deaf ears, unless they bang on the door itself.

Even then…

A small click and the handle turns, causing the pinkette's lips to curl into a smile. It must be time now. If the clown can have a little fun, why can't she?

A slim man slips into the room, weary and stressed. Quickly closing the door, he lets out a relieved breath, trying to regain his composure. Compared to yesterday morning, there's a difference in Terry. The bright aura that engulfed him has dimmed ever so slightly from the previous night. It's easy to feel a sense of comfort when the animals at the zoo are barred in, but when they get out… Their true nature is terrifying, especially to those who've never ventured into the wild.

_'The poor kid didn't even see Sid coming, let alone realized what happened until it was too late. That little bastard was pretty fast for someone from this dimension. There are a lot of strange people here.'_

"Um… It's, ah—It's 10 now." Terry mutters, looking at the floor. With Harold gone, the pinkette needs another staff member to assist in maneuvering around the facility and this one will do just fine. Despite the uncanny resemblance to Neji, there are other reasons he'll make a suitable replacement. There's no underlying intent that she can see, and he'll keep his mouth shut. Whether it's out of gratitude for saving his life or fear, neither really matters. Getting the job done is what's important.

"Perfect. Yosef isn't in today, right?" Pushing up off the bed, Sakura tries to resist chuckling when the younger man jolts at the quick movement.

"Y-Yeah… Janelle called him, but didn't get an answer." His brow furrows at the question, not understanding what she's getting at. There's no way he possibly could. Not without witnessing it firsthand.

With the asylum up to their neck in shit, no one will too worried about keeping an eye on the staff. They're more concerned with cleaning up and dealing with the inmates caught up in the chaos. Whenever there's an uprising, the others act out from feeling empowered. It flows through the air like an electrical current, jump-starting those who became stagnant in confinement.

"Okay. We're going on a little walk." With a grin, she clasps her hands together to form the familiar seals.

_'Dog — Boar — Ram.'_

"What are you doing?" Taking a step back, the younger man looks startled as Sakura closes her eyes, focusing her chakra.

_'Henge no Justu!'_

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Terry screams, dropping to the floor.

* * *

Glaring up at the lights on the ceiling, Joker works his jaw around in agitation. The straps of the gurney dig into his sides, making it difficult to even draw in a deep breath. He wants to huff, spit, curse, flail… Anything to release the rage festering inside of him. It forever lingers in wait for the right moment, but this time it's about to boil over, melting everyone in its path.

_'That bitch is gonna get it this time. For real. No more playing games. Wait till I get upstairs, witch.'_

"What's wrong, clown?" His ears perk up at the voice. One of the newer guards leans over the side of the gurney, arching a brow. A Middle-Eastern man who recently started working here. Placing a name with the face is an inconvenience. All the staff are equally scummy and nothing more than entertainment. Unfortunately, he's not in the mood for humor.

Nope.

"What's that on your head, boy? Someone clock you good?" A smile slides across the man's face from eyeing the dark, swollen lump on the clown's forehead. A small price for acting out last night, but one that paid off.

"Shut the fuck up. Call me _'boy'_ again and I'll rip your spine out with my teeth." Joker can do it too. Just because he can't go through with the threat at this very moment, that doesn't mean he won't. The list in his mind is still long, yet there's still room for more names.

"I thought you'd have a better comeback than that, clown. I'm _disappointed_." The guard shakes his head and turns away dismissively.

"Son of a bitch!" Snapping his jaw in anger, the entire gurney shakes as he fights against the restraints, wanting to bathe himself in the man's blood. Sweat trails down the sides of his face into the dirty blond mess around his head from the effort. It's hard enough trying to breathe from the straps restricting his lungs from expanding without throwing a fit.

_'That asshole… He's next. Talks just like the goddamn witch!' _

As they round the next corner, Joker tries to even out his breathing. He's not doing himself any favors by freaking out now. No… Staying calm and collected is the best bet to get shit done. After all, he didn't go through that last night for nothing.

His lips curl up into a sneer from feeling the object in the jumpsuit's sleeve. Yeah, getting a little beaten up was worth it. Harley is such a _doll_ to open up the glass doors to calm him down. The guards didn't like that or when he grabbed her, quickly sliding a hand into the blonde's coat pocket to steal a pen. A late-night date with their nightsticks and spending the rest of today in solitary are a fine exchange in his opinion. It might seem like nothing to most, yet in his hands… even a pen is a deadly weapon.

_'Later tonight, I'll make my way upstairs. I'm gonna strangle that bitch and get my stuff back.'_

The thought is enough to settle him down, finally laying back against the cold metal to relax. Keeping his wits together is more important at the moment than falling for the taunts of rodents. The one guard's acting too familiar for someone that's never dealt with him. Then again, all the staff already know the deal. Instead of doing their jobs, those morons spend too much time chit-chatting about the inmates.

_"Hahaha!"_ The sudden laughter causes the young Asian guard to jump out of his skin and away from the gurney.

"What are you doing? The clown's strapped in. Calm down…" The previous asshole snaps, turning to glare at Joker. The chuckling dies down from the look on the guard's face. Frightening the staff with his random burst of hysterics is always the fun part of being escorted around the building. It's scraping the bottom of the barrel for some entertainment, but it's better than nothing. And yet… This guy didn't even flinch. That's unusual for a person who's never dealt with him before, especially one that recently started working here.

_'I don't like this douchebag. Something about him doesn't feel right, but I can't put my finger on it.'_

The dark pit in his sockets narrow on the man, taking in his features. He's seen this guard a few times on the way to his sessions with ol' Jerry. There's definitely a change in him. What is it? Did one breakout give him an extra set of balls? An extra layer of thick skin? When the hell did newbies get so mouthy?

Reaching the next hall that leads to Jerry's dungeon, the clown's brow furrows when they take a right instead of a left. Trying to crane his neck up to see what's going on, one of the straps pushes against his larynx, causing him to give up on the pointless action.

"I know ya aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer, but we're missing my, uh, _execution_. I'm sure Mr. Top Brass is counting down the second-_s_." When the guards don't respond or even glance down at him, the clown stares at the ceiling in irritation. Disrespect, insults, now they're ignoring him? What's with these guys? At least Harold would've smacked him.

The walls meld into a dingier version, showing they're heading into one of the older halls. A part of the asylum left untouched by the recent influx of funding and abandoned by the staff after the new regime took over.

_'Why the hell are we going here?'_

Pushing his head back up and ignoring the straps, dark eyes dart around when only one guard's left pulling the gurney.

"Where's the other guy?" It comes out mindlessly instead of staying in as a fleeting thought, causing him to bite his own tongue in punishment. The taste of iron in his mouth helps to gather the scattered fragments in his mind, knowing he needs to stay alert. If he's being dragged to this part of the building, it can only mean one of two things. The guard either plans on beating him to a bloody pulp or they will do anyway with him altogether. This man isn't involved with his goon employed here, so it's nothing good. Unless another inmate is pulling strings and wants somewhere private to talk.

_'Doesn't matter. Someone's about to be hurt. Bad. Now that we're away from prying eyes, it's a free-for-all.'_

"Well… Since we're taking a detour, why dontcha drag me up to J-block? _Hmm?" _Smacking his lips together, the muscle in his cheek jumps when the Middle Eastern man looks down at him. It doesn't hurt to ask since someone already doesn't give a damn about breaking the rules. A little road trip won't hurt anyone… except for _Sakura_.

The clown's been itching to get up there from the moment he woke up from that shitty dream. All because of Harleen and that screechy voice yelling outside his cell. It was tempting to snap her neck the second his hands were on her, especially when she _leaned_ into him. Trying to resist his violent nature is a real struggle, but not impossible. He prides himself on having better self-control than most of the animals in this shithole. There's no punchline in ending the doctor that way. Too soon… and there's still much to do. She'll come in handy and has been useful so far. No one in the entire building is ready to fawn over and defend his name the way she will.

_It's hilarious. _

"J-block, huh? What, you want to go see your girlfriend up there? Get your cards back?" Joker's blood runs cold at the nasty chuckle echoing around him as the gurney's pulled into an abandoned room. The blood vessels in his dark eyes strain at the grinning face at the end of the metal table being wheeled around.

Ruined lips move instinctively, but nothing comes out. A sharp inhale causes the straps to dig into his chest further, but he needs the pain to _think_. Teeth tear into the corded scar tissue lining his mouth, filling it with blood that runs down his throat.

_'What… did he… just say?!'_

A thought finally surfaces through the fog clouding his mind. He barely registers the guard moving to stand alongside the gurney, right next to him. The words pierce his brain like a railroad spike shifting around, turning his brain into a scrambled mess. They're on repeat, echoing through the clown's mind and bouncing along the walls of his skull.

Joker's skin heats as if doused with a pot of boiling water, scalding the restrained body beneath the jumpsuit. An amused giggle breaks the silence in the room, but it falls on deaf ears. The blood surging through his veins and thundering from the hollow cavity in his chest are the only sounds he picks up on.

Rage… Pure, unadulterated _rage_ seeps every crevice of his being.

**_"… your girlfriend… cards back…"_**

The surroundings are a deep red as his dilated eyes dart back and forth, trying to find a semblance of rationale. This man… He only could've known about the cards if Sakura mentioned them. She's not the type to run off at the mouth. At least, that's what Joker thought. There's no other explanation for any soul to have that kind of information. To make matters worse, it had to be done intentionally. Someone like her is far too strong to have it dragged out, even through torture. The pinkette can use that green magic to fix everything, then laugh at their feeble attempts.

The same way she does to _him_.

Why would she even be talking to this piece of shit in the first place? He's utterly useless and inept at his job. That trash isn't even worth manipulating, let alone wasting any of her time on.

The clown doesn't know what makes him angriest out this. The insults and disrespect, having her theft thrown in his face, anyone even knowing about the cards, that she's being a little _slut_ around the asylum, knocking him out last night, or that she's being called his 'girlfriend'. It's all enough to send him on a killing spree, and this man's the perfect place to start. Then he'll go to J-block to confront that _whore_. A small part of him thought she might've been better than this, but time and time again, she enjoys proving him wrong. Screw the consequences. He's tired of dancing to these fool's tune.

"Aww. C'mon! Don't make that face. Relax clown, I didn't bring you here to fight." Distantly, he feels the restraint on his right arm being loosened as the guard works the buckle. Those words sound too much like the witch. Enough that it's sending him _reeling_.

Grinding his teeth, Joker turns his head to glare at the man leaning over and humming while removing the strap. All he needs is the one arm free, then it's a wrap.

"I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. You know, in private." The Middle Eastern man drops the restraint, letting it dangle from the side of the gurney. Dark eyes tear away to look down, seeing that his limb can move from the damned contraption. Shaking his arm, the pen slides down the orange sleeve, enough for his fingers to wrap around the weapon in a crushing grip.

The moment the guard glances towards the next buckle, Joker clenches his jaw and lunges up, taking advantage of the small amount of leeway presented. The tip of Harleen's pen pierces the side of the man's neck, digging deep into his tan skin. Using as much strength as he can muster, the clown growls out, letting his anger take over. He demands to see blood, hear screams, watch dull eyes roll into the back of his head as the life drains from his body.

"Kuhh!" A strangled noise leaves the guard's mouth when the crimson fluids run down the front of his uniform. Fingers coil around the offending wrist gripping the pen, holding on tight as Joker tries to push it in further. He can barely lift either shoulder off the gurney, but the strength in his straining muscles is enough to finish it.

"That's what you get, _fucker!_" A loud cackle fills the room from watching the dark eyes above him turn into saucers. Shock… That's the emotion he wanted to see, yet there's something missing.

Fear.

The hand on his wrist quickly tightens, slamming it down against the metal slab and shattering the bones in its ferocious grip. Searing pain shoots from his fingers, making its way through the entirety of his body as the cracking sound in the air finally registers. A scream builds up, ready to spill out over everything.

Nothing comes out from his ruined lips, even when his jaw's pried open from the anguish. Pain has always been a lifelong companion. One that walks side by side with him through the long nights and grueling days. A familiar face in a strange world…

**"FUCK!" **Sirens blare through his head causing the clown to become disoriented. The room starts spinning, turning into a whirlwind of colors. Shades of gray and orange, dancing in his dark eyes, spiraling into a strange array with the brick wall.

His arm… It's completely broken. Not just the wrist, but all the way up to his shoulder. A bunch of shattered bone fragments encased in tan skin, with bits of veins and muscles mixed into the mess.

"God—Goddammit! You're such an asshole!" A voice flutters into his ear, one that's almost as familiar as pain itself. Yes, he _knows_ that sound, but it shouldn't be here. It can't be… She's far from him right now. Maybe he's already lost consciousness and is floating through a dream. That's the only reasonable explanation for hearing that angry hiss. It never makes sense to him why his mind always chases after that woman, even when she's the last person he wants to think about.

It comes again, this time louder and angrier than the last, enough to pull his eyes back into focus. The rage her voice elicits is enough to override the pain, to bring him back to the present.

_'What?!' _

Joker blinks hard, not sure if he's actually conscious or not because what he's seeing makes no sense.

The guard's bleeding profusely, glaring down at him with a murderous expression. Reaching up, the fingers that shattered an entire arm gingerly grasp the pen, yanking it out of his neck. Blood sprays down the front of the uniform from the quick action as he stumbles back, wheezing and trying to catch a breath. Backing up against a wall, the man's head lulls forward as a puff of smoke engulfs him.

The clown's eyes fly open when Sakura's in his place, dropping to the floor in her orange jumpsuit. A small hand clutches her neck, the spot he stabbed a pen into. Blood runs between the pale fingers cradling the wound, trying to stop the flow.

_This has to be some fucked up nightmare. _

That's what he keeps repeating to himself, yet the pain rolling through him says otherwise. It's electrifying, far worse than anything this asylum could ever attempt. The shock of what he'd just seen is enough to keep his mind from spiraling down the rabbit hole he's always reveled in.

A green glow surrounds the weary pinkette's hand and neck, wasting no time in trying to mend the injury that should've killed most. Can she heal one that serious? Or is it an attempt to fix as much damage as possible?

"S-Sakura." The word comes out is a rasp, sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. If part of his body wasn't shattered, the room would be filled with curses and screams, demanding to know what happened… If this is even real… Why did she do this? What if he plunged that pen through her socket? Can that be healed, too? How can she take on the form of others?

"You… You're a bastard…" Tired green eyes glare at him from the wall, still holding on to her neck.

"I—" The gurney pulls backward, jolting the clown to reality. Right away, his head whips back to see the young Asian guard gripping the font end and wheeling him around. Struggling against the restraints, he realizes the broken arms in its former restraint.

Within seconds, the pinkette's form disappears as he's dragged through the doorway, back into the dilapidated hall. Trying to flail intensified the agony, causing little white lights to erupt in front of his eyes.

"Wait! What the fuck are ya doing?!" There's no way he didn't see Sakura against the wall. He's the one who came with the pinkette and must've been in on this. Is he just going to leave her like that? What if that magic only goes so far, and she dies?

_'On the floor… like a dog.'_

Joker can't think straight or grasp what's going on. All he knows is that he's being wheeled to Jerry's room to be electrocuted with a smashed arm while Sakura bleeds out down the hall.

"Stop, ya fucking idiot!" The clown doesn't care anymore. If all he can do it spit and scream, then the entire wing can hear it.

"Sorry, no can do. Just following orders…" The guard ignores the man foaming at the mouth and snapping his jaw, quickly pushing the gurney around the corner.

The familiar route towards the room where Jeremiah performs his electroconvulsive therapy sessions.


	21. Stranger

**A/N: **Well, this chapter turned out a lot longer than intended... Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy the update! For anyone interested in more JokeSaku content, you can check out my Tumblr account under the same username. Timeinhereyes started a Discord server for the pairing (where I'm an Admin), so message either of us if you'd like to join!

* * *

"Gahh!" Screaming out is useless, but is the only thing he's capable of doing now. The straps dig deeper from the constant flailing, cutting off his circulation. Not a word comes from the guard pulling the gurney down the hall. Everything is dead silent except for the angry hissing and shouts from the clown.

The searing pain in his arm intensifies from the pointless fight against the restraints. It's as if hellfire itself replaced the blood coursing through his veins, only seconds away from bursting through and scorching him alive.

None of that matters.

If anything, he feels more animate from the intensity than ever before. Let it fry him to a crisp. Everything burns sooner or later, anyway.

The agonizing sensations roaring through his body are nothing. No one revels in pain the way he does. Dealing out hefty helpings or drinking it all in… Joker _lives_ for it.

That's not the issue… It's that he has _no_ fucking idea what the hell's going on.

_"You little shit… I'm going to tear your stomach open and spill any guts left onto the floor… Gouge those eyes out with a spoon... Peel that pretty face off with my fingers... Use your skull for a piss pot…" _The threats keep spilling out in deep growls, dropping to the furthest octave his voice is capable of. All laced in between harsh attempts to force oxygen into is his lungs. Dark eyes piece into the guard's back, ignoring how the younger man's shoulders raise up as his head hangs low.

Terry glances back hesitantly with beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his face. Instantly he regrets it when meeting the clown's gaze, almost stumbling from the murderous glare coming from beneath Joker's heavy lids. Wide, dark pools of ink, full of malice that chills him straight to the bone.

"I—I'm just doing my job…" The guard mumbles as he whips his head around, unable to hold eye-contact for more than a few seconds. It's the only way to stop himself from cracking under the pressure.

"Ya won't be for long. Guarantee tha-_t!" _The younger man visibly stiffens at the _promise_ but keeps going. Picking up the pace, the gurney skids, banging against a wall in Terry's rush to get rid of the clown.

"For fuck's sake, brat!" Joker hisses as his side collides with the hard surface, sending jolts of electrical heat down the broken mess that should've been an arm. Giving up on struggling, he bangs the back of his head against the metal, rolling it from one side to the other. What the hell is this? Nothing makes sense... Unless this is all a dream? It's never been this difficult to distinguish what's real or not.

The dreams, illusions, fantasies, pain, pleasure… Arkham might actually drive him mad this time.

Closing his eyes, he tries to take in a deep breath and clear everything out. Being the master of tricks, there has to be an explanation for what happened. Gotham is full of strange people with unusual abilities, so a woman shifting into a different form isn't that wild, right? Yes… If he just ignores his side and _thinks_, then everything will make sense.

_'Healing… Gorilla strength… Shape-shifting? What else can the witch do? She better heal my arm or I'm going to fuck her up…'_

Is she even alive? Taking a pen near the jugular isn't a joke, and most would die from bleeding out alone. Why did that little shit act like he didn't even see her? What orders is he following? Why go through all that trouble?

**_"I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. You know, in private."_**

What the hell did she want to talk about? Last night? The cards?

**_"J-block, huh? What, you want to go see your girlfriend up there? Get your cards back?"_**

That bitch… He should kill her for fucking with him like this. If it wasn't himself constantly on the receiving end, it'd be quite impressive. It's been a long time since running into a person with _so many_ tools under their belt. Most in the underground are one-trick ponies that hone a skill until it's profitable or a pain in the ass for others to deal with.

And this woman… has an entire _arsenal_ at her disposal.

The moment he wraps his head around one, another comes out of nowhere to punch him straight in the gut. Each more violent and perplexing than the last. This fallacious little witch's appearance is nothing more than a trick to cause others to underestimate her… until the moment she punches them through a wall.

"Ha… Haha… HAHAHA!" The guard jumps at the booming noise shaking the entire gurney, letting out a squeak in surprise. The laughter turns into hysterics, setting the younger man on edge. Everyone knows that sound and what follows it…

Ignoring the pain, Joker keeps his eyes squeezed shut as images and plans form behind his shadowy lids. Keeping a clear head makes this so much _easier_. Finding the humor in life and everything it throws his way brings a strange sense of clarity at the most opportune times.

_'How funny… I already tried to kill her a few times and failed. How ironic would it be to actually succeed when I don't mean to? Hah! Fuckin' hilarious…'_

Does he actually want Sakura to die? The act has played out in his fantasies so often, it's not even funny. For weeks, the pinkette's demise had been a constant dream he planned on making a reality.

The insults… utter disrespect… unwanted words and touches… Joker has killed for far less.

**_"You… I think I'm going to, ah, keep you, after all, Sakura."_**

That's right... Just last night he said that to her before the breakout. When they were alone in her cell together. It's still not over. Nope… The whole point of keeping himself locked up all this extra time was to not leave empty-handed. If he kills Sakura or she ends up dying, then that's exactly what'll happen. The new plans involve her and that strange magic she wields. The endgame was to draw the Batman out of his cave and have fun along the way. The pinkette's an integral part of bringing that to fruition.

_'Do I even need her to do that? Is it worth the trouble? Sure, she packs a wallop, but there's no guarantee everything will work out. There's still blondie… She'll be easier to manipulate, yet not nearly as useful. I can get his attention on my own. Who needs these fucking broads?!'_

Joker disrupted the entire hierarchy of Gotham with a few small moves on the chessboard. Had the city submerged in complete chaos with just a couple of bullets and drums of gas. A single threat on the news had thousands of people running for the hills. One dead Batman impersonator stopped the rest of the wannabe vigilante group in its tracks.

No, he doesn't need _anyone_ to pull off his schemes. He's been a one-man show right from the very beginning. That's how it always is, no matter how many men fall under his 'employment'. The clown is the brains behind every operation. A comedian who laughs at his own jokes and couldn't care less if another soul gets it.

_Still…_

Curling his lips into a snarl, a little bug crawls into the dark crevices of his mind. One that should've been squashed beneath his foot a while ago. There might be a chance the pain is sending him into a state of delirium, but that's doubtful. There's never been enough to get the clown to that point before. Not even when his face was carved into…

Yeah, he doesn't _need_ Sakura to pull off his plans, even if it might speed up the process. It's agonizing to even acknowledge the _possibility_ of what his despicable mind is thinking of. If the restraints weren't in the way, he might've bashed his skull against the wall for this loathsome monster trying to find a resting place in his thoughts.

Joker might not need the witch for anything, but he still _wants_ her.

_'Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!'_

It's true… And that only makes him _angrier_. This is his fault for letting it happen. That first day the pigs dragged him in, he was the one who initiated their little strife. She didn't spare him a single glance until he started trying to antagonize her. The pinkette didn't come to him or even tried bothering to. Most of the time, she blatantly ignored him, sometimes for days at a time. The clown was the one doing all the pushing right from the get-go, and now it's put him in a spot he never imagined finding himself in.

Aside from toying with Batman, when was the last time he actually wanted something? Or anyone?

Drawing a blank, Joker's nails dig into the flesh of his palms. This is complete bullshit, and he regrets not ending this from the start. He never should've looked in that witch's direction or said a word.

_'Even if I want Sakura, that doesn't mean I can't use her.'_

That train of thought helps quell some of the rage blossoming in his chest. Yesterday, Joker said he plans on keeping her. Being a man of his word, that has to happen. The benefits far outweigh the cons. She's too good of a tool not to use while having a grand ol' time along the way. Getting inside her head and heart will be tedious, but worthwhile. A weapon with so many fantastic features will really come in handy during his next act.

_'Healing, speed, strength, shape-shifting, body manipulation. There's probably more. Lot's more. I'm gonna find out everything that's hiding beneath that soft exterior.'_

Those dreams… They must be a fucked-up way of his mind lashing out against him for denying his urges. Maybe he really is delirious to be thinking about that now, when a quarter of his body is shattered. Things that _shouldn't_ matter.

How pleasant Sakura smells. The way her skin feels on the calloused pads of his fingers. Listening to how fast her pulse is racing when his hands coiled around that scrawny throat. The silky texture of her pink hair when it's wrapped around his fist. How soft her lips are against his ruined mouth.

Who knows how much of it is real or made-up anymore, but he's going to figure it out. Joker already said he plans on keeping her, and that's all the pinkette needs to know. She didn't argue or flat out reject the idea. The witch practically gave her _consent_ by doing that. Perhaps she's not opposed to the thought of being his?

_'That settles it then. Can't kill that bitch over some cards, now. Play it smart. There's nothing to lose, but so much to gain. Even if she ends up crushing me, I'll still have the last laugh.'_

Sakura came to him to talk in private. She was taking the restraints off for a reason. About what? Maybe she wanted a quick screw while no one was around?

_'Then why was that little shit hanging around the hallway? Fuck… I need answers.'_

If the witch wants to take a ride on a broomstick, he's got wood for days. It's been playing out in his dreams for a while now, causing an increasing amount of pent up frustration. Taking some of that out on her body might help clear the fog clouding his mind for the last weeks. Sex has never been a priority, but he's still a man with needs that have to be sated every so often.

An incredible weapon he can fuck every which way whenever the urge arises… Now that's having his cake and eating it, too.

A laugh builds up in his chest at the thought. This is going to be _good_. He just needs to get that little witch wrapped around his fingers, first. Her interest is already piqued. Now to move onto the next step.

"Thank you, Terry."

The sound of a familiar voice causes his eyes to pop open. _White_. Everything is so damn white. They shouldn't be here already… It's only been maybe a few minutes at most since leaving the room where he—

_'Where I stabbed Sakura… The witch should be fine, right? She was healing herself. That magic is strong. Something like that wouldn't kill her. This new boy-toy said he was following orders. This was all orchestrated for a reason… To see my reaction? What does she have on this dumbass to make him a gofer?'_

That doesn't matter right now. They're already in Jerry's dungeon despite only a couple minutes passing. The clown knows the asylum like the back of his hand, and something isn't right. That room is multiple hallways away, and it should've taken longer to get here.

_"What?!" _Joker shouts, causing the nurse walking near the gurney to jolt, dropping a syringe on the floor.

The pain in his side… It's completely _gone_.

Dark eyes widen as he moves his fingers around, staring down in shock. The bones were completely shattered into fragments, yet... everything's suddenly in place. Whole and uninjured, like nothing ever happened.

_'Bullshit! I felt each one being crushed. What the fuck's going on, now?!'_

"Patient 0801. Please calm down. We're making preparations for your therapy session with Dr. Arkham. He should be here any—"

"Ya both can piss off." The clown grumbles mindlessly, watching his wrist rotating beneath the restraint. He doesn't give two-shits about the nurse, Jerry, or the goddamn shock treatment. They've been happening so often, it's almost as common as dinnertime these days. Last night mustn't have caused enough ruckus if that old fart still finds time to electrocute people. Either that or he wants to get some frustration out by using the clown as an outlet.

This doesn't make sense. Is this another piece of shit dream?

"What's wrong, _clown?_" Hearing the voice from above, Joker tears his gaze away from the fully functional arm tied to the gurney, up towards the guard standing barely a foot away. Even if the sound is different, he _knows_ that arrogant tone anywhere.

The Middle-Eastern man from earlier stares down at him with a cocky grin plastered on his face. No blood down the front of the uniform. No terrible wound on the neck. _Nothing_. It's as if what happened in the room never transpired.

Clenching his jaw, the clown wants to shout every curse known to man in their direction. To make accusations and demand to know what's going on. If there wasn't anyone else in the room, that's exactly what would happen. The nurses will just claim he's having a 'psychotic episode' again and pump him with even more drugs.

"I don't know. Why dontcha tell me, _witch_." Hissing out angrily, his agitation grows to new heights as the guard gives him a toothy smile.

"Nothing's wrong on my end. Actually, I'm very pleased. Didn't think you'd get _so _worked up over me being hurt. Honestly, it was quite touching." The sorceress keeps her voice low so the other's moving about won't hear them. "Though I'm surprised how quickly you went in for the kill… That's not very nice, now is it?"

"Would you shut the fuck up?!" He growls through his teeth, wanting nothing more than to dig them into her neck. Breaking her skin in his jaws would be the only thing that might bring him some satisfaction.

Sighing out, the guard moves closer, but not enough for Joker to do _anything_. He could spit a wad right into the witch's face, but that'll only end badly for him. This time, she might actually smash his bones to dust, or the other staff with beat him senseless with their nightsticks. Can't exactly enjoy shock therapy with a broken body…

"And here I thought we were starting to get along! Well, until you tried to strangle me last night. You know, you really know how to ruin a good time." She lets out 'tsk' while looking at him disapprovingly. Part of him can imagine her wagging a finger like she's berating a pissy child.

Glaring at the man hovering above him, it's really hard to take her seriously with that appearance. If Joker didn't know she was a witch, he'd definitely be under the assumption this is a poor attempt at gaslighting.

_'Heh! So, she was having a good time, after all. Good to know…' _

For some ungodly reason, the anger tearing at his insides begins to wane. Maybe it's another one of her spells… Who knows? At least his arm isn't shattered into a million pieces. Getting electrocuted on top of that wasn't exactly his idea of how to start this day off, even if it might be fun.

"Is that why ya pulled that little trick? _Hmm?_ To fuck with my head?" It's a struggle to keep his voice down so the numbskulls don't hear them. They're so focused on banging shit around and preparing for the session, he doubts any of them notice the conversation going on.

"It's called a _genjutsu_. I've been practicing. Not bad, huh?" The guard's smirk widens, looking positively pleased with herself. The expression _might've_ been endearing on her actual face, instead of this ugly mug. "Just an illusion. That's all…"

"Heh! _'That's all'_, my ass, you bitch! I felt every single thing!" An illusion… That explains what happened and how neither of them are hurt. So, she was never in any real danger, after all? This entire ordeal just made him look like an ass. _Again_. If the witch thinks she's getting away with this unscathed, she's sorely mistaken.

"Tch. Don't be such a baby. Do you think you can just stab anyone you want without any repercussions?" Arching a brow, the pinkette-in-an-ugly-disguise can't wipe the shit-eating grin from her face.

_"Yeah."_ His lips curl back, baring his teeth to the deceptive witch looking down at him. Seeing the sudden look of disgust on her face causes him to cackle, enjoying the discomfort he's able to elicit. Despite the piercing noise causing everyone in the room to jump, something in his stomach twists. It feels like his intestines have a mind of their own, coiling around themselves and knotting up.

Joker isn't sure what it's from or why it's happening. Did Sakura make that expression because of his teeth? She's made comments before about wanting to hold him down and clean them. Or is it how nonchalant he is about jumping to violence and not giving a damn what happens next?

_'Who gives a shit? The little witch is gonna have to deal with it 'cause I ain't changin' for no one.' _

**_"I don't think of you like that at all. There are no stupid ideals I want to push onto you. I like the monster you already are... Don't want to change any of it. I know what we both are and so do you... We're not the good guys in this story._**

His eyes droop from watching the man/woman staring at him as the laughter dies down. Sakura said that yesterday… What's going on in that head of hers? She must be off her rocker. Then again, who isn't?

Breathing out softly, she pinches the bridge of her nose and saunters away from the gurney, taking a spot against the counter. Joker stares at her retreating form intently, trying to mentally replace that horrid form he's watching with the pinkette's. If there was ever a huge turn-off, _this_ is it. Hands down. Next time they're alone, he's going to let the witch know if she ever comes to him in another's body, she'll get a pen in the neck for real.

_'Actually, this is really useful…' _

Despite being visually disgusting, it's an ingenious ploy to maneuver around the asylum without raising suspicion. She'd be able to come to him without throwing the entire block into a state of emergency. What happens if they check her cell? Surely the witch isn't that careless? She covers all her tracks, so there must be some kind of trick to throw them off.

_'Those morons are so dumb, she probably wrapped a sheet around a pillow and they can't tell the difference.' _

"Please try to keep still, Patient 0801." Before Joker realizes what's happening from focusing on the witch, a syringe full of yellow-tinted fluid pierces his neck. Snapping his jaw, the plunger is quickly pushed down as liquid ice enters his veins. "Shh… Just calm down."

The same male-nurse who always does this is fast and efficient, earning a nice spot on the to-do list.

"Goddammit!" The clown shouts, trying to ignore the heat in his neck. An icy sensation runs through the rest of him as the medication invades his bloodstream. Grunting, he works his jaw around, hoping to suppress a chill threatening to make his teeth chatter. No way in hell that's happening with the unwanted audience in the room.

"_Hey!_ Try not to be so damn heavy-handed, will you?!" Sakura's male form spits out at the nurse, shooting daggers right at him. It's a surprise she said anything in his defense. Wouldn't the little witch enjoy watching him suffer?

_'Is that why she's standing there? Does Sakura really plan on staying the entire session? Get the fuck out of here!'_

It's no secret Joker is a shameless man. He's never denied it, even once. There's almost nothing that can genuinely embarrass the clown. Despite that… The thought of the pinkette standing here while he's being electrocuted bothers the hell out of him.

Swallowing hard, he stares at the man leaning against the counter. No, at _Sakura_… Trying to curse her out with his eyes without saying a single word. He doesn't want her here, to see him in that kind of state. Convulsing and writhing under Jerry's gentle touch with drool running down his chin. How will that look to her? Someone who manipulates the guards and can punch through bulletproof glass with ease? If anything could come close to humiliating him to the next degree, this is it.

_'Get out… Just fucking leave already. You're not wanted here, witch… Take a goddamn hike!'_

Sakura stares at him intently from across the room, not even blinking. It's almost unnerving to see that familiar look in someone else's eyes, even if he knows it's her underneath. If she was in her own form, he'd put up far more of a fight. Having another person standing there _almost_ makes it a little easier.

The pinkette stealing his cards and knocking him out seems like it occurred long ago, not even at the forefront of his mind anymore. Those are trivial matters, even if he handled them badly. Those can be dealt with, but this? How is she going to take the clown seriously after watching someone get the best of him? Strapped to a gurney while a madman shocks him half to death? Usually, it's the other way around and this isn't nearly as much fun.

Only distantly Joker hears Jerry's voice talking to an orderly while shuffling papers around. He couldn't give a rats-ass about that prick. Old-man Arkham will get his soon enough… When the time's _right_. All he cares about is trying to communicate to the pinkette to leave without drawing anyone's attention.

"Don't touch me, asshole!" He growls out menacingly when a nurse slaps conductant on his temples with a tongue depressor. After doing this day-after-day, the staff is becoming slightly less afraid of getting too close. They're still hesitant and easily jump when he lashes out, but try their best to get the job quickly done.

Shooting his gaze back towards Sakura, he wants to slap her across the face for the expression she's making. It almost looks as if she's _sympathizing_ with him, maybe even feels _sorry_ for what's happening. For some reason, that bothers him a lot more than the smirk she was wearing just minutes ago. The clown doesn't want anyone's goddamn pity.

One of these days, he's going to murder every _single_ person in this fucking asylum.

Closing her eyes, the pinkette lets out a deep breath before pushing off the counter. Breaking eye contact, she turns away and heads towards the door to Joker's surprised relief. That fact that he's relieved only agitates him further. Why should this little woman's opinion matter at all? When the hell did he ever care how someone saw him? What they thought?

_'Unbelievable… This place is turning my twisted wires into a jumbled heap. I need to get out of here, and soon. As many times as I've been locked up, it's never been like this.'_

"Where you going, Yosef?" The male nurse that Joker hates with a burning passion calls out to Sakura when she reaches for the handle. Gritting his teeth, Joker swears to himself that this man will have a gruesome death when the chance arises. "We need you _here_ to help with the patient. We're understaffed as it is. This one's a handful, so don't go anywhere."

"Gotta piss. Can't hold it any longer" The guard shrugs nonchalantly, not sparing the clown a single glance. "Besides, the man is more tied up than a Kinbaku performer. Don't think he's going anywhere."

Clicking his tongue, the nurse grunts as he slides a cart alongside the gurney. What's left of the staff has been called into work overtime since last night's debacle. The fatigue from dealing with so many inmates in such a short span of time is painted all over their tired features. The orderlies, nurses, technicians, doctors, guards, and especially Jerry, are all feeling the aftermath of the breakout…

A Joker's _ecstatic_ about it. Serves them right for being so careless.

"Hahaha!" Even if he's the one that's 'tied up' and fuming, it's still funny. Laughter makes everyone around him uncomfortable, which is exactly what he wants. It's one of the few things that can brighten his spirits at the moment, aside from Jerry accidentally falling onto the machinery and electrocuting himself to death.

_'Tch! I'm not that lucky. What a show that'd make… That's giving me more ideas. So are kinbaku and Sakura. Seeing her strung up in ropes would be quit-e a spectacle…'_

"Can't that wait? I—"

"Marcos, don't worry about it. I think we can handle the patient as is." Jerry drops a file on the counter and pushes up his glasses, observing the clown over the rim. "You, just go." He waves off the guard at the door without taking those beady little eyes away from the gurney. It doesn't escape Joker's notice how out of sorts the older man appears today. His light brown hair sticking up in every direction from running his fingers through. The stern expression switches out for one of lethargy and annoyance. This asylum seems to be getting the best of him, too.

_'Now, he really looks like a mad doctor. Heheh! Just a few more cracks before the dam bursts.' _

Slowly dragging his gaze from the madman, dark eyes carefully watch the phony guard grasping the handle, but not opening it. A beat passes while the techs prepare for the 'treatment' to fry his brain to a crisp. Making sure the electrodes are fired up and _ready_.

_'Get out already, ya bitch!'_

Trying to keep the witch in his peripheral, Joker looks at Jerry, whose temperament seems to have changed. He appears to be in a better mood at the prospect of their session. A true masochist, through and through. If it wasn't himself on the chopping block, the clown _might've_ appreciated that. Still, he despises trash who takes advantage of their position and pretends to be some upstanding citizen.

Finally making up her mind, Sakura quickly wrenches open the door and heads out, letting it slam behind her. She didn't look back at the clown once. That _irks_ him far more than it should.

_'I don't care… Couldn't give two-shits. Fucking brat… Witch. Snob. Hussy. Let's see how much she enjoys jokes and the cold-shoulder later. Hmm? Bet she won't like tha-t!'_

Dark eyes narrow on the door as the insults keep floating through his mind. The last thing he should be concerned with is Sakura not looking back when there's a mad doctor preparing to shock him. Just another day in the life…

"So…" Glancing at the older man standing next to the gurney, Joker gives a large, toothy smile. Seeing the doctor's disgusted expression at his gnarly teeth, the clown cackles loudly, causing one orderly to back away. "We gonna get this, ah, _show_ on the road, ya old fart?

"Of course, Patient 0801…" Jeremiah smiles wide when the tech hands over the electrode, looking down at him with disdain.

* * *

"What a _moron_." Sakura shakes her head on the way down the hall, hearing the booming laughter resonating from all sides. It's practically bouncing off the walls like he's having the time of his life in there.

_'Who the hell laughs during electroconvulsive therapy?'_

The Joker… That's who.

A small giggle slips through her lips at the thought. What a strange man… The voltage on those machines barely has any effect on her, but to the average human in this world, they could cause some serious damage.

She's been through those 'sessions' many times over the years and frankly, it's nothing impressive. Genin from the academy can give her a better jolt during practice. However, people in this world don't possess chakra or the physical constitution to withstand high voltages. Well, most can't… There are a few special cases for the latter. Even some that possess abilities that control the elements.

_'How many times have they shocked that bastard?' _

Not that he doesn't deserve it… The clown is the biggest asshole around. Possibly the biggest one she's ever met. Still, part of her doesn't like what's going on. Maybe it's just the medic in her that wants to intervene. It would be nothing to walk in there and drag him out. There isn't a soul in that room who could stop her.

Sighing, Sakura wonders why she even cares. This was just supposed to be a game. Something to pass the time while getting on Joker's last nerve. After all, she probably wouldn't have said a word to him if he wasn't so damn persistent. The pinkette's been confined across from others for much longer without conversing with them even once.

Slipping a hand into the uniform pocket, the tips of her fingers softly graze the two cards resting there. The Queen of Hearts and Jack of Spades. They mean something to him. The clown wouldn't keep them separated otherwise. He's definitely not the sentimental-type.

Rounding a corner to a dimly lit hall, she's grateful for the difference. That newly renovated one that Jeremiah likes to conduct his 'sessions' in is too bright for her liking. It's such a contrast compared to the rest of the asylum.

_"Hahh…"_ This is all so confusing. No matter what happens, they both keep intervening or meeting with each other. She didn't have to pull this little stunt, even if it was _very_ informative. Maybe it's a bit immature, but she wanted to know. Joker has shown he's not above pulling tricks or manipulation, so is it wrong for her to do the same?

_'J said before that he's the only one allowed to kill me. Even if it wasn't intentional, his reaction said enough. I bet that bastard will say it wasn't on his terms as a bullshit excuse.' _

God forbid that asshole admits to anything. He doesn't want her dead, even if it's by his own hand… That doesn't mean she can let down her guard, though. One minute they were dancing, then he was reaching for her throat. Things can change in a split-second with that man.

Captain of the USS Denial… Big time _denial_. She's never met someone who was so deep in it. What kind of jerk would rather strangle a woman than accept he might like her?

_"Bakayarō!"_ The moment it slips out, Sakura slaps a hand against the stubble around her disguise's mouth. Wide, green eyes dart back and forth to make sure no one's nearby that might've heard the mistake.

_'Fucking hell… Calm down, idiot! You're talking in Yosef's voice… No one knows who you really are except for Bozo.'_

A strained laugh comes out at the realization. It's been so long since using 'Henge no Jutsu' on top of being distracted that she wasn't thinking properly.

Leaning up against a wall, a heavy breath of relief comes out as the pinkette's rattled nerves settle back down. That mistake hasn't been made in a long time… The pinkette always tries her best to speak English only. Getting rid of the accent took some time, but is something she likes to think is perfected by now.

"I can't believe I did _that_." Sakura whispers softly, running a hand across her forehead. This isn't good… Lately, more mistakes are being made from carelessness, with the clown being the first. Sliding down to the floor, she can still make out the manic hysterics coming from the other hall.

_'Why am I letting this happen? How do I truly feel?' _

It's clear this isn't just a game any longer. Not some 'tit-for-tat' or 'who gets murdered first' competition now. Honestly, Sakura didn't want to kill him, but will still defend herself. He's the one that wanted to play it this way. Despite that, the rules of the game have changed. Clearly, neither wants the other to die.

They've spent a lot of time talking, pissing the other off, joking, causing harm, and even kissed. What does that mean? The pinkette really has nothing to go off. She's never had a boyfriend or partner before… The only man in her life has only been Sasuke, and that was entirely one-sided. He never showed any interest above being teammates, no matter how hard she tried.

_'Goddammit…'_

Honestly, Sakura always hoped one day that the Uchiha and Naruto would suddenly appear in this dimension to take her home. It's been three years and nothing. Not even a hint of their chakra. Sasuke has the ability to hop through dimensions, so she can only come to four conclusions.

One, they didn't survive the war. Two, Sasuke refuses to try. Naruto wouldn't have let her stay here this long, and he'd refuse to stop pushing until there were results. Three, they are going through different portals, but there's too many between them and the search continues. And finally, the fourth one. They have no clue where she went and didn't consider another dimension as a possibility. If that's what this really _is_.

"Rgghhh!" Scratching her head, the pinkette just wants to scream. It's all so frustrating. For all she knows, Sasuke put her in a permanent genjutsu that never ended after his hand went through her chest.

_'No. This can't be an illusion. Gotham is too strange, even for Sasuke's creation. Not to mention I'd be able to detect it. I'm just being paranoid. Shit, this place is getting under my skin.'_

Biting her lip, Sakura knows she needs to forget about the past. Sasuke. Naruto. Kakashi-sensei. Team 7. Tsunade-sama… None of that'll do any good here, and the last thing she needs is to find herself in that dark place again. This is the life she has, and there's no point in waiting for something that might never happen.

**_"Hn. So, this is all that's left of a great kunoichi of Konoha? A gem among a pile of trash… Four walls, three meals, and a mixed can of nuts. Hah! Hashirama's granddaughter would be so proud to see her disciple now… Living as an outlaw in a wasteland without doing anything wrong. How pathetic."_**

That man's words ring in her ears as if he's right there speaking them again. She doesn't want to hear it. He has no right, especially as part of the problem, to say those kinds of things.

Shaking it off, Sakura pushes herself off the floor. No… Nothing he says matters. The pinkette can handle anything life throws her way and has proven it time and time again.

Joker says everything's a _game_. Maybe he's right. Even if it is, that doesn't mean she can't have fun along the way. There's no reason to hold back from doing what she wants on the off chance something _might_ happen. Sasuke and Naruto aren't coming, and no one's going to save her. The pinkette might not have complete control over the situation but can still make her own decisions with what's on the table.

If that means falling into something dangerous, so be it. The only thing left to lose is her life, and that means very little now. The most excitement she's had since coming to Arkham is meeting Bozo. Jumping down the rabbit hole and seeing what happens might be the only thing she's done for herself in years.

_'I don't care anymore… You want to dance clown? Let's dance. Just so you know, I'll come out on top.' _

All these years, she's saved _everything_ for Sasuke. Heart, body, mind, soul... and her future. For what? Some silly hope that her love and dedication would finally reach him? That the Uchiha might see all the pinkette has to offer and realize he has feelings for her?

During their time in the academy and as genin, there were so many small instances that she completely over-exaggerated in her own head. Barely a glance. Maybe a shrug. Defending her during the second stage of the chunin exams against Orochimaru's pawns. A simple compliment once in a blue moon which had little to do with her as a potential interest. In her teenage mind, each piece was proof of Sasuke's secret love that he's just not ready to share from his ongoing inner turmoil. Revenge against Itachi was in the way of making that a reality. She genuinely believed once Sasuke achieved that, he'd return to the village and everything would _change_.

_'I was such a fool…'_

Hindsight and a heavy dose of reality allowed Sakura to finally put the pieces together during incarceration. The Uchiha had never shown an inkling of having any romantic notions towards her. Not coming from greatness and having any trauma that 'compares' to his own, it was easy for him to dismiss her. Looking back, it was partially understandable. In those days, she really didn't have a clue about how he felt, no matter how many times she tried to comprehend his pain.

However, that disregard never changed. Even after she helped him and Naruto seal Kaguya, he threw all that dedication in her face. No… Through her _chest_.

Joker has shown more interest in her within the last few weeks than Sasuke had over an entire decade. It's time to move on. Out with the old and in with the new. No matter where this path takes her, she'll see it through to the end.

_'Well, that's that.'_

A small smile graces her lips as she heads down the hall, feeling a bit lighter. The pinkette might not be a great kunoichi of Konoha at the moment, but that doesn't mean she can't be something here. In Gotham, no one cares about clans, villages, or inherited jutsu. None of that shit matters. All that does is what she's capable of and these little fists pack one hell of a punch. The clown can see that… He knows there's far more to her than meets the eye.

Walking past a row of doors, Sakura suddenly stops from the sound of familiar mumbling coming from one of the rooms.

_'I know that nonsensical bullshit from anywhere.'_

Moving closer to the small window, it easy to peek through at this height. Taking on the form of a tall man has its benefits compared to her normal stature. The pinkette would've had to get on her tippy toes just to look.

Glancing around the dim room, Sakura's brow furrows at what she sees. A desk with papers and office supplies skewed all over the surface, rows of files lining the wall, and a few charts pinned in different spots. The light isn't nearly as bright as Jeremiah usually likes for his patients, but this is definitely one place he occupies. Only it's usually not for sessions. Despite that, Victor Zsasz is strapped down to a gurney, bopping his head around to no audible music playing.

_'What the fuck is this? Why is he in here? And what was Jeremiah thinking by giving him back those sunglasses?'_

Allowing curiosity to get the best of her, she pulls out a keycard and smacks it against the control panel. This looney toon has mentioned _quite_ a few times wanting to kill her for some stupid 'zombie' reason. The man has a penchant for slitting the throats of young women and those with an apparently lifeless expression in their eyes. Then again, he's more than willing to murder anyone, even for the money he claims that turns people into robots.

Yanking open the door, Sakura strolls in and quickly notes how the noise doesn't elicit a single response for Victor. Narrowing her gaze on him, he just keeps staring up towards the ceiling, moving his head to a beat no one else is privy to.

"Ah, Dr. Arkham… Thought ya were busy with—" The moment he glances over the side of the gurney, the playful tone dies off. The baldy almost seems taken aback, like the last thing he expected is to see a guard. And that's probably true.

Very little escapes the pinkette's notice under this roof. In confinement, there's seldom to do aside from following people's auras. Even when she's reading, her attention gets divided between drinking in the words and checking up on the happenings around the building. Recently, Victor has been spending a curious amount of time in Jeremiah's various rooms. Sometimes, even unsupervised. No one in their right mind would leave this maniac to his own devices, gurney or not.

"Ya-Ya-Ya _Yosef_. Interesting to see ya here, _buddy_." Mixed in the sing-song voice is a copious amount of condescendence and it doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together. Victor doesn't like the man that Sakura's impersonating. Probably strikes fear into him just for fun. "I'm surprised you'd come into the lion's den, especially without yer _little_ friends." Chuckling darkly, he shifts against the gurney to get more comfortable. It's strange how some of these people act right at home in chains and restraints, like they truly don't have a care in the world.

_'This asshole reminds me of the clown in a way.' _

"What? Cat gotcha tongue? Or did someone finally cut it out? Kehkehkeh!" His cackle grates on Sakura's nerves, the same way everything else about him does. Being around him causes her skin to crawl, like little bugs burrowing beneath the surface that feel the urge to excavate everything in reach. It _disgusts_ her, and so does this man.

_'Let's see if he'll keep making racket after this?'_

A poof of smoke surrounds the Yosef's form as the pinkette emerges with an arrogant smirk on her face. Victor freezes in mid-laugh at the sight, letting the sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to expose the wide eyes behind them.

A moment passes where neither says a word, just staring at each other. If Sakura wanted him to shut up, she certainly achieved that because he's absolutely _speechless_. Hardened blue eyes stare in confusion at the small woman before flickering around the room as if to make sure everything's still the way he remembers it from only minutes ago.

"What's wrong, skinhead? Something, ah, _shock-ing?"_ Sakura giggles at herself for mocking Joker's speech pattern, even if he's not here to get angry about it.

Tearing his gaze back towards the pinkette, Victor purses his lips while eyeing her suspiciously. The top of his jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to see the jagged scars from his tally count. Each vicious mark represents a victim whose life he callously snuffed out.

A young woman on her way home from work was in the wrong place, at the wrong time… A man that pissed Zsasz's employer off in some way that marked him for death... Random people that just had a certain look in their eyes that Victor despises… The majority had their throats slashed, then he positions their corpses in a casual pose as if they were still alive. That alone is more than enough reason for Sakura to smash his brains out. Maybe even fold the gurney up into a small heap, then crush it while he's still strapped in. If there's anyone who deserves to die in this asylum, it's Victor Zsasz.

Green eyes narrow on the man, trying to resist the urge to act out. No. Killing a person without provocation while they're completely restrained will make her no better than them. At least with Moxley and Sid, she let them make the first move. Turning it into a case of self-defense helps keep the guilt at bay.

Staring at Victor, a thought flutters to the forefront of her mind. Does it make her a hypocrite to be judge, jury, and occasional executioner to those kinds of men, while carrying on with Joker? One of the most despised people in all of Gotham who's killed countless people and openly enjoys the mayhem he causes?

_'Maybe… but at least he has a sort of code. Bozo doesn't rape or go out of his way to kill those who don't have a fighting chance. Children and the disabled are off the menu. They don't get his jokes or punchlines, and there's no fun in it. That's what he said before…' _

Joker can definitely be a monster, but there are some lines even he won't cross. It's not because he _can't_, but _chooses_ not to. There are quite a few inmates that don't hold those same sentiments. The clown says those kinds of acts are beneath him, something that savages with no class do. Even if he's an arrogant bastard with an ego the size of Wayne Tower, he still holds himself and his crimes to a certain standard.

_'Why the hell am I looking for positives in that assclown? It's like comparing garbage and seeing which piece of trash doesn't smell as bad…'_

"So, the clown's pink-haired witch is a master of disguises! Not just a nuclear bomb wrapped up in a _pretty_ little package? Nice, nice. I bet Joker's just _living_ for it!" Victor laughs merrily once the shock wears off. His smile and eyes are too wide, showing the manic side that frightens even the guards. Sakura finds it almost amusing that he has the balls to talk to her this way, knowing she more than capable of shattering bulletproof glass. After all, his cell is right next to Joker's. There's no way he _didn't_ see what happened.

"I'm not the clown's anything, dumbass." In a blink of the eye, she moves too fast for him to react and snatches the sunglasses off his face.

The nasty smirk playing on his mouth suddenly drops at the realization of what happened as he eyes the dark pair being spun around between her fingers. All he saw was the pinkette standing there, then his glasses appearing in her hand. Sputtering stupidly, the baldy looks around the room, as if hoping Jeremiah will come through the door any second.

"Give. Them. _Back_. Bitch!" He growls menacingly, struggling against the gurney's straps to lunge at her. It's all futile, but the morons in this building never know when to quit. Even if he managed to get out, what then? That'll only result in the asylum's head finding a pile of mush on the floor. "Fuck! Fuck! Gimme my glasses! I swear—"

"You swear what, asshole? That you'll _kill_ me?" Sakura says mockingly, grasping the sunglasses in her hand. She lets her fingers visibly pulse around the object, just to let him know they can be broken at any moment. "Heard that one too many times. Didn't turn out too well for any of them. Nope…"

"Wait. Wait! We can handle this like reasonable adults. Can't we?" Gritting the words out behind clenched teeth, Victor's eyes don't leave the pair for a second, refusing to even blink. He stares at them with a frenzied kind of hunger that makes something in the pinkette's stomach turn. She's only seen that look in fanatics, ones willing to kill for their 'cause'. There's no doubt in her mind that this man would murder another human being just to get his sunglasses back. People under this roof have done it for less.

"Neither of us are reasonable adults. That's why were here, no?" Arching a brow, she lowers her head to meet his gaze, but it's only focused on one thing. "For fuck's sake!" In a flash, the pair are quickly back in place, resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose.

The moment he realizes they're on, his entire demeanor completely flips. Letting out a heavy breath, Victor chuckles lowly as he settles back against the gurney. Part of her wants to ask what's so damn important about those sunglasses, but she really doesn't care. Who knows? They could be a memento from one of his first victims or a gift from his boss.

"So, skinhead… Do you still have some diabolical plan on murdering me?" Crossing her arms, Sakura tilts her head to the side to try to draw his attention back to their ridiculous half-conversation.

A large sneer that crinkles his nose causes the pinkette to grimace at how disgusting he is. "More than likely. Even if yer one of the clown's puppets, I'm not worried about him. It's all in the name of purifying humanity. Gotta be honest though… You're no longer a top priority!"

_'I'm going to rip his guts out if he keeps bringing that assclown up… Is he saying I'm not a top priority because he knows I'll crush him into dust or there's someone else his focus is on?'_

"And why is that?" Sakura doesn't know why she's even humoring this in the first place. Maybe it's just to kill some time until the doctor's done with the clown… She wants to wait a few hours before heading up to solitary to talk to him. That'll give him plenty of time to cool down and think things through beforehand. He's always a hot mess after getting electroconvulsive therapy. Having his brain shocked to hell doesn't leave much room for good banter.

"Ya see, I found someone truly lifeless. A genuine, grade-A zombie bitch! A soulless being with no direction or meaning. A woman that fits my type who deserves salvation in its rawest form!" Victor's eyes fly open as he leans towards the edge of the gurney, full of excitement at the prospect of his new target.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she's completely disturbed by this man's erratic behavior. It's nothing she hasn't seen before but is still unsettling. Anyone that knows Zsasz's history or reads the paper knows his 'ideal type' for victims. There's only one person in this asylum that comes to mind.

"Harleen…"

* * *

Each day and night seems longer than the last, a never-ending cycle of chaos and malicious intent. All in the course of a few weeks so much has changed, yet hasn't at the same time. Just the last sixteen hours have put a considerable amount of weight on the doctor's weary shoulders, as if there already wasn't enough to begin with.

Patients, sessions, disagreements, prescriptions, files, constant paperwork, bills, Ash's incessant complaining… It's all starting to get to her. The break out is only the icing of an already multi-layered cake.

"Dammit…" Harleen blows a messy strand of blonde hair out of the way as she heads down the hall. This is the first time since coming into work in the middle of the night that she's had the time to go to her office to sit down and take time for herself.

Things were seemingly starting to quiet down around the asylum until now. Then again, that's usually when catastrophes appear to occur. The moment everything looks to be under control or getting better, suddenly shit hits the fan.

Jeremiah is acting strangely, along with Alyce. That might be due to the recent circumstances, though. Two guards were killed in Sakura's little rampage at the beginning of the week, on top of giving patients the idea that the bulletproof glass is breakable. Three had to go to the medical wing with broken bones from attempting to do the same. Even if they somehow managed to pull it off, then what? There's no way of getting out of the building, especially dress in those orange jumpsuits. That's the whole point in the color choice. It helps them stick out in case anyone is somewhere they shouldn't be.

Just thinking about it all is bringing on another headache. What is this, the fifth one today? No one ever said this job was easy, but…

_'Doesn't matter, Harleen. Just keep your head up and do your job. We'll just do the best we can with what we have.'_

It always feels like something is missing in life and that thought has been edging its way further to the forefront. The world seems so gray, yet she desperately desires a splash of color. Already, her path has strayed from the one her sister found, but maybe that's okay.

This isn't a one-size-fits-all ordeal. The problem is finding what is capable of breathing life back into her. Coming to Arkham had become a dream come true in her curious mind's thirst to observe the criminally insane. To see what makes them tick or how they view the world. Spending the last year listening and observing them has made quite a few things clear. Most of them don't genuinely care what others think, nor do they accept any restriction. The sky's the limit to those who couldn't care less how society feels.

_**"Do what you want, Harley. Cut the strings tying you down to the puppeteer's hands. I saw it in your eyes during our first session. Something inside you wants to break out... To fight for what you truly want. Each small move you make only tangles those strings around you tighter and tighter, knotting up. Take a knife and cut yourself free already."**_

_'No. Don't think about that. Don't! He's just trying to mess with your head, knowing you're under a lot of pressure.'_

_Too many nights have been spent tossing and turning, replaying Mr. J's words. His specialty is psychological torture and manipulation. Pushing people to do things they normally wouldn't. Taking any advice from a man like that is only asking for trouble of the worst kind. _

The hall is silent aside from the heels tapping against the smooth surface of the floor. They cause her feet to ache constantly. Why does she even wear them to begin with? To appear more professional? Why does a woman have to force herself discomfort to meet a certain criteria to be taken seriously?

_'The moment I sit down, these are coming right off.'_

Grabbing the handle of her door, Harleen lowers her head, sucking in a deep breath. She's exhausted, emotionally, and physically… In a strange way, knowing Mr. J wasn't part of the breakout brought her immense relief. After vouching for him so many times, that's the last thing either of them needed.

"It's fine, Har." Whispering to herself softly, the blonde cracks open to the door and walks in. Per usual, the small office needs to be reorganized again. Between the patient's files and health insurance papers, it's an overload that needs constant attention.

"Hmm?" Noticing something on her desk, Harleen freezes on the spot. No one is supposed to enter this room, aside from herself and Jeremiah. With all the private documents floating around for many individuals, any other staff member needs permission.

"What… is… _this?"_ With each step closer toward the desk, her heart pounds faster and harder.

A thin vase sits on top of the desk's surface with a single, long stem red rose. Around the simple glass is a solitary note tied around the neck with string.

Breathing out hard, a lump forms in the doctor's throat. She's almost too afraid to read what it says. Another death threat? Is that the meaning behind the string tied around the neck of the vase? A message from a guard who's too shy to speak up? Maybe a little token for all her hard work?

_'Don't be stupid… Working in this place is making me overly paranoid.'_

The problem is that doctors have to be innovative to handle what's within these walls. Something that seems simple or easily overlooked can have an ultimately different meaning to a criminal.

Biting her bottom lip, Harleen tries to calm down as she slowly slides her glasses off and grips them in the palm of her trembling hand. If it's a threat, she'll just call security and they can try to figure it out together. There was a breakout last night, so an inmate could've done this.

_'They had keycards, too…'_

Trying to shake it off the alarming thought, the doctor thrusts the pair of glasses in her coat pocket. Steeling what's left of her resolve and facing it head-on is all that can be done.

Leaning forward, blue eyes slowly scan the note, drinking in each and every word.

**Come down and see me some time  
~ J**

* * *

Time ticks by slower than usual. Glancing at the clock again, Sakura decides it's been long enough. Four hours should be good, right?

Pretending to be a guard during the current state of the asylum has probably been the most exercise she's had in a while. Actually, the pinkette's done more since last night than in the previous three years. Being confined to a small cell with meals being 'delivered' doesn't leave wiggle room to do much of anything.

Carrying meal trays, checking on the inmates, helping calm them down until their psychiatrist arrives, poking the ones she doesn't like with nightsticks… It's been a _grand_ time.

_'This is right up the clown's alley. No wonder he enjoys impersonating people. It's all about acting the part while laughing at everyone's obliviousness.'_

Doing chores around the asylum was unnecessary, but someone might notice if a guard is suddenly missing after coming in. Yosef's shift should be over by the time she's done, so who cares at that point? This also gave her a way to kill time other than staring at the wall.

After the little chat with Victor, Sakura resumed the guard's form and started doing rounds. It's been so long since getting to see much of the asylum, especially without cuffs or chains. The last few hours felt incredibly liberating to move around so freely… She might do this more often.

_'I want to see how the clown's doing. We can finally talk in private now and hopefully, he won't go straight for the throat… Doubt it.'_

There's a good chance he'll act out anyway, even if she does nothing to antagonize him. Last night that bastard went to strangle the pinkette just from staring at her lips. He's a strange man that enjoys resorting to violence to solve most of his problems. That probably won't ever change.

Scurrying down the hall from the guard station, it doesn't take long to reach the cell he's been assigned to until tomorrow morning. Harleen must really be putting in overtime if he only got a day in solitary for attacking a staff member, even if no one was harmed.

_'Just for a goddamn pen…'_

If it hadn't been a genjutsu, Joker would've actually used that dinky little thing to murder someone with. How despicably resourceful… and _cunning_. Given chakra and some training, she shutters to think how he'd turn the shinobi world upside down. Even the strongest can be outplayed with a sharp mind. His orthodox methods would give many a hard time.

_'That asshole would end up in everyone's bingo book.'_

Shaking her head, Sakura stops right outside one door in J-block… Cell 24. It's not the same hall as hers and is only _slightly_ better. These tiny cages at least have a dim light that can be turned on from the outside. Not that the guards do. Most spend their nights in darkness unless they have doors with uneven edges. Sometimes a little flicker shines through if they're lucky enough.

Slapping the switch on the wall, the pinkette's sure he already knows who's outside his lair. None of the staff, except for possibly Harleen, would bother turning it on.

_'Just relax… This isn't a big deal. Breathe and go in…'_

Grabbing the keycard, she sucks in a deep breath to settle her nerves while reaching for the control panel. Of all the encounters they've had, it's not clear why this one has her on edge. Maybe it's the conflicting thoughts and feelings that keep surfacing? Or that she's been going down memory lane more often recently?

None of that matters. Only sucking it up and pushing forward. Living in the past has never done her any good. Neither has thoughts of the future, especially when everything's so uncertain. Going with the flow is the best option. Life is just a game at this point, and she might as well enjoy it.

Cracking open the door, Sakura pokes her head in and peeks around the side. For a moment, she almost regrets coming…

Sitting up against the wall is the clown, stony-faced with no hint of amusement. Dark eyes pierce through her the moment she sees them, full of malice and contempt. Surprisingly, he's not in a straightjacket. Must be another one of Harleen's doings. The guards would've _never_ agreed to him being unrestrained in a room where they can't keep a constant eye on him. Even with a slot to look through, opening the door would still be too dangerous for them. It only takes a second to make a move.

_'Jesus Christ… Has he been like this the entire time or since I turned the light on?' _

"Get rid of that _ugly_ get-up, witch." Joker's voice is no more than a raspy growl from the appointment with Jeremiah. There's no doubt they had an extended session from the looks of it. The doctor probably wanted to get some frustration out, and the clown undoubtedly pushed quite a few of his buttons to boot.

_'Always asking for it. Sometimes, literally. He really has no sense of self-preservation.' _

Just from a single glace, she can tell he's been through the wringer. The staff must've taken him to the shower room recently. She can always tell when they do. The unruly mop on his head is temperamental, just like him. It's usually a stringy, greasy mess until someone drags his ass to the shower to get cleaned up. Now, his hair looks almost… _soft_. Dirty-blond curls among a sea of belligerent waves that reach the crook of his neck. Little faded green splotches of his former dye-job are barely visible anymore, allowing the natural hue to take over.

The shadows around his heavy lids are ever-present, melding into the dark pits in his sockets. If not for the sliver of white in his eyes, they'd seem hollowed out. She can only imagine how they'd look in greasepaint… Most of the time, the anger permeating in their depths is the only sign of life in them. Even when he's laughing, it only dims but never leaves. Has this man ever been genuinely happy at a single point in his life? Not in an _'I love watching you suffer'_ kind of way? Any real joy that doesn't come from some malicious or crude act? Something that isn't related to his sadistic tendencies? There's always a rage just under the surface. It flows through him like blood, spreading to every nook and cranny of his being. Even if it's not visible to the naked eye, it's still there.

"Did ya hear me? _Hmm?" _The clown cocks his head to the side, eyebrows raised high as an exaggerated frown tugs on his scars. From the way his nails keep digging into the pant leg of his jumpsuit, this form must aggravate him. Despite being deceptive, he doesn't like the favor being returned, whatsoever.

"Fine. _Fine_." With a poof, Yosef's completely gone with the jumpsuit-clad pinkette standing in his place. With a crooked grin, Sakura holds her arms out wide, trying to hold in a giggle. "There. You happy now?"

For just a moment, Joker seems to relax. Letting out a deep breath, he sinks further into the mattress, sliding down the wall by a hair. Dark eyes trail over her form as if it's been a while since they've last seen each other.

_'Why the hell's he looking at me like that? Did seeing me in another body throw him off?' _

"Did you miss me?" Sakura bites the inside of her lip to stop the sneer from playing out on her face. It'd be a lie to say she doesn't enjoy teasing him.

The muscle in his cheek jumps at the question, only confirming what she was thinking. Staring at the pinkette intently, he blinks a few times without saying a word. Something feels off, but she can't put her finger on it. Usually, he'd hurdle insults in her direction or throwing a fit by now.

_'What's with him?! Did they really fry his brain this time or having a delayed reaction from being exhausted?'_

From being in the cell across from him for the last month, it's no secret the guy has problems with insomnia. Throughout the night, either a guard or noisy inmate will wake her up multiple times. Years as a shinobi would make anyone a light sleeper. The smallest noise can mean an enemy's going for a sneak-attack, so it doesn't take much to rouse her. 70% of those occasions, the clown's usually glaring at something—_mostly her_—or just lying in bed. From his aura, she can tell when he's in the REM stage. It's calmer, has more of a balanced flow compared to the erratic spikes when he's conscious.

Right now, the clown just looks worn out. The bags around those pitch-black rocks are worse than ever, and his face is starting to appear gaunt. Getting a reaction from him is taking longer than normal, too. Usually, the jerk is ready to spit fire at a moment's notice…

Today's session must've been brutal. If the media caught wind of how electroconvulsive therapy was carried out in this facility, it'd be shut down immediately with a good chunk of the staff being taken out in handcuffs.

"Earth to Bozo? You in there?" Padding across the cold floor, she waves a hand to get his attention. The odd behavior is causing her to be slightly worried, even if she knows he can handle a lot for a person in this dimension.

A deep scowl etches into Joker's face when the words finally sink in. There it is… The clown's lips curl up into a snarl as he twists the orange fabric in his fist.

"Don't. Call. Me. _That._" Any bit of calm he had from seeing her true form again flies right out the window, along with his patience. "Ya wanna explain that little, ah, _show_ ya put on for me?"

Stepping closer to the bed, Sakura doesn't avert her gaze from his for even a second. Those dark pools of obsidian always say more than he ever will. Anger, annoyance, a hint of confusion, and something else, all mixed into a strange canvas. Emotions flutter by quickly, like someone hitting the buttons on a remote to search for the right channel. This man tries hard to control even what the 'gateway to the soul' might say about him.

If he wasn't such an asshole, she might say they're _mesmerizing_.

"Ah…" Sitting down on the edge of the flimsy mattress, the pinkette notes how he grunts and subtly moves his arm away. Does the clown think she'll smash it for real this time? "What is it you always say to me? Oh, yeah… _'I don't have to tell you shit!'_ Right?"

Lunging forward to grab the front of her jumpsuit, Joker slams her up against the wall he was just leaning against. Baring his teeth with a throaty growl, he leans in close enough that she can feel his hot breath washing over her face.

"Think you're so goddamn funny? Huh?!" Yelling just an inch away from the pinkette, she can _feel_ the rage radiating within him. They've been through this song and dance before, yet something's different. Unlike every other time he's lashed out, there's no murderous intent.

"Not particularly." When the clown's in one of these _moods_, she knows what to do. Staying calm and nonchalant usually ends in one of two ways. It'll either calm him down or cause everything to blow out of proportion. There's no joy to be found if she doesn't seem too willing to play ball. They both already understand it wouldn't take much to crush him, but he doesn't put much weight into his own life. He's a daredevil, willing to dance with death just for kicks.

Scrunching up his nose at the answer, Joker looks almost annoyed. Perhaps he wanted to take out some of his frustration from the session out on her, even if it might result in a few broken bones. The angry glare shifts to the side, shooting daggers at the dirty wall instead of the pinkette.

"What's with you, today? You're acting… _strange_." Being grabbed and shoved against the wall isn't anything that hasn't happened before. Dealing with this man will undoubtedly bring some form of violence, but she's already accepted that. Even if she's small in stature compared to him, Sakura can handle it. The murder attempts, name-calling, erratic behaviors… This isn't anything she hasn't experienced before, just on a different level.

The last word seemed to get under the clown's skin as he clenches his jaw, working it around from the pressure building up inside. Dragging his eyes back to the pinkette's face, they gloss over her features, studying them intently. He really is off, and it's not clear why, but the way he's staring causes knots in her stomach.

"Strange?" His voice sounds distant, almost mindlessly repeating the one part that stuck out to him. Focusing on her lips, the clown's hand lets go of the orange fabric to coil around her throat. They rest against the pale skin in a light hold, not nearly tight as usual. The pad of his thumb ghosts over the racing pulse hammering just beneath his touch.

_'Wh—What's… he doing?!' _

Sakura tells herself it's curiosity that keeps her still, to see what he's trying to do. Despite that, the heat in her cheeks intensifies at an alarming rate. It's the same look from last night, just before he lashed out. Will that happen again? The point of coming here wasn't to knock him out or fight. The genjutsu from earlier was a little test to draw something genuine out of him for once and see how he'd react. They both now know the clown doesn't truly want her dead, and the lack of murderous intent only reinforces that idea.

"Ya know… I really _hate_ you." Venom drips with each word, throwing extra emphasis to get the point across. Dark eyes tear away from the pinkette's lips to stare directly into hers, searching for something. A reaction? To see if it hurt? Hoping to make the 'Queen' cry?

Swallowing hard at the harsh words, Sakura _almost_ feels like he punched her in the gut. If she didn't know any better, hearing that from another person might've stung.

"I hate you, too."

Before another dagger comes out, Joker squeezes hard and leans in, crashing his mouth against hers. Green eyes fly open in surprise at the sudden move, not expecting him to even try this. Strangulation seemed to be on the agenda. The grasp is firm, but she can still breathe, realizing he's just angry and holding her in place.

Teeth bite down on her lower lip with a guttural growl to get a reaction from the stunned woman, pushing her into action. The clown isn't one who's willing to accept refusal, especially after deciding to make a move.

Throwing caution to the wind, she kisses him back, allowing herself to get lost in the moment. They did this last night, even though it resulted in him tossing her to the side. He's the one to initiate it and can only blame himself this time around.

Closing her eyes, Sakura's in disbelief this is happening. Large hands move to latch onto her hips, pinning the pinkette against the wall with his body. The heat coming from him is almost too much, causing the orange jumpsuit to feel stifling even in the frigid room.

Deepening the kiss, Joker squeezes down on the small bones in his hold. The moment she gasps, his tongue slips between her lips, pushing forward to explore every inch of uncharted territory.

_'I should bite it off for him doing that… What a bastard.'_

Instead of getting upset, the pinkette lets the new sensations wash over her. The feel of jagged his scars against her skin. His scent enveloping everything around them, invading her senses. This is different from last night… There's a hunger in him he's refusing to hold back. Was this what the clown wanted to do in the hallway that caused him so much anger? Pent up frustration that needs to come out?

No one's ever kissed her this way before… It's nothing she dreamt of growing up. Fantasies of a man being gentle and sweet, taking his time to express how much this means to him used to play in her mind.

Joker is not the kind of man who can fulfill that. He's like a starved wolf, attacking the pinkette's mouth with little care if his teeth tear through the sinewy tissue of her lips. Pressing her against the wall as if meaning to meld their bodies together. With the fire radiating beneath his skin, she might melt enough to make that a reality.

Breaking away from the kiss, the clown's hands shoot up to fumble with the zipper of his jumpsuit, tugging hard to pull it down. Green eyes widen as he hastily yanks the fabric over his shoulders, letting it pool around his waist.

Seeing his chest completely exposed this close causes the blood to rush to her head, making Sakura suddenly lightheaded. Physical attraction is a weak spot, one she's tried avoiding if possible. Naruto's _Oiroke Gyaku Hāremu no Justu_, among others, only confirmed it to herself and those standing in proximity.

_'Oh, no… Don't get a nosebleed. Don't get a nosebleed! This is too much!'_

Being a medic forced the pinkette to see _quite_ a few things over the years, but the woman has a limit. A certain mindset and determination come with healing that's utterly useless in this situation…

"Heh. Like whatcha see, witch?" Even without looking, she already knows there's a cocky smirk on his face just by the arrogant tone. Her throat runs dry as she drinks everything in. Jagged, rough scars litter his tan skin, a testament to the violent and careless life he's lived. Each one tells a story of their own from a time he barely evaded Death's scythe by a hair. She's seen worse on patients, but usually not nearly this many, even by shinobi standards. The clown's lean muscles flex in different spots subconsciously, and it dawns on her that he's waiting for a verbal reaction.

_'Interesting… Despite the arrogance, I think J's on edge for some reason. Is he wondering if I'm disgusted or turned on?' _

Trying to steady her breathing, Sakura glances up from under her lashes to look at him. From his expression, the clown's on that fine line between losing his shit and leaping at her. The long scar on his right shifts with the subtle movement from him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches her face with rapt attention.

"Actually, I do." The words come out huskier than she intended, causing internal screaming inside her head. The last person who needs their ego inflated any larger is Joker, but she still gave it to him.

"Good…" Wasting no time, he rushes back in to continue where they left off. Without the fabric covering his chest, it feels hotter than before, almost like the material was a seal to keep the fire at bay. His intensity is overwhelming, causing the pinkette's chest to stutter from trying to force the oxygen he's stealing back into her lungs.

A deep groan reverberates from his throat, going straight through her. This has never happened before and she's completely at a loss. How far does he plan on taking this? Should she stop it? Is this wrong? Or right? The pinkette's body is screaming for more after being touch starved for so long, but her mind isn't on a different plane. It's floating through a fog, getting high from the man that's trying to eat her alive. All this time, she's deprived herself of basic needs that normal adults regularly indulge in without a second thought. Shinobi duties are long gone and so is everything else. What will it hurt to get carried away for once?

_'My heart…'_

Fingers start grasping at the zipper of her jumpsuit, giving it a firm tug. Just before it reaches her breasts, a trembling hand grabs onto his wrist, stopping him from going any further.

Breathing hard, Sakura holds on tight, trying to steel her resolve. No… She can't do this right now. It's too soon. Last night, Joker tried to strangle her… Even if there are some strange feelings between them, carelessly handing over something she guarded all these years isn't a good idea. That's a piece of her that should go to a person who deserves it. One that won't take all the dedication and love she has to offer for granted.

What's going to stop Joker from using this as a weapon against her? Why does he even want to do this? Just to get his rocks off? Release some tension or pent-up sexual frustration? He can just go to Harleen if that's the case. She'll probably be willing to help him out, just like with everything else.

"What gives?" The clown's brow furrows with a grimace, full of confusion and offense. Already, she knows he's going to take this personally.

"I…" His heated, angry eyes cause the pinkette to glance away, hoping it'll make this easier. She technically doesn't have to explain anything, especially to him. That's what he always says the moment she digs too deep. Honestly, they barely even know each other. "I'm not ready for all that." Her voice is soft and hesitant, not full of the usual confidence she exudes.

Joker stares at Sakura for a moment, his cold eyes flickering over her face. Waiting for some kind of response from him now has her on edge. Everything twists and turns on the inside, making her feel anxious. Will this result in a fight? Or is he just going to insult her and say 'piss off'? There's always the possibility that he'll just wait for Harleen to visit to use her instead.

"Hah!" The clown barks out a laugh, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. "Ya want me to believe that? _Hmm?_ Don't have the tits to just say what's really going on?" There isn't a single bit of humor in it, even as he carries on. Arching a brow, she doesn't know what that's supposed to mean.

_'To say what's really going on?' _

Leaning back, Joker drops his down to look into her face with a sneer. Seeing the confused expression, he snorts through his nose in disbelief. "Ya don't mind showin' it all off for the guards or those shitty boy-toys on the daily. How 'bout that Snow Cone bastard? Is getting to me where ya draw the line? Now ya wanna act like a prude suddenly? A little virgin angel too afraid of getting her wings dirty—" A hand cracks across his face, almost knocking the clown off balance.

Sakura's entire body trembles in rage, trying with every ounce of patience to hold herself back from pummeling him to death. Insinuating she's a slut, showing all the good off to everyone and their father. Bringing up Sasuke, despite the moron never getting the name right… Even if she had sex with anyone else before, that doesn't mean he automatically has a right to have a go.

_'I want to kill him. This time I might really do it. Fuck the guilt!'_

Recovering from the blow, Joker looks shocked as he touches the pulsing red handprint on his face. What the hell was he expecting? If she said a quarter of that to him, those long fingers would be wrapped around her throat in a split-second.

"You're such an asshole! Stop trying to make me out into something I'm not because of that stupid little jealousy bug that crawled up your ass! I've been here since I was seventeen. _SEVENTEEN!" _Right now, she'd love nothing more to rip the curly hair right out of his head. The pinkette doesn't know why she's even defending herself but still feels the need to, for some ungodly reason. Maybe it's her pride or embarrassment… Either way, she can't hold it in._ "_I'm not giving _anything_ to _anyone_ and never have! How dare you throw the shower room in my face! How many guards have seen you naked? _Hmm?_ Going by your logic, I guess you've been doing a lot of fucking over the years!"

"Ha… Hah… HAHAHA!" His manic laughter abruptly stops the tirade, taking Sakura off guard. A hand clutches the clown's chest as he leans forward from the hysterics getting the best of him. For a moment, the pinkette debates if punching him through the wall will be worth all the bitching from the staff.

Humiliation ebbs its way into her mind, overriding the sudden urge to commit murder. He's cackling like a madman… at _her_ expense.

_'I should've put a lot more force into that swing…'_

For the first time in years, Sakura feels like that seventeen-year-old kunoichi who threw punches at her old teammates for making embarrassing remarks towards her. When Naruto would mention the pinkette's 'love' for Sasuke or hint at having a crush her. All those times Sai called her _ugly_ and Kakashi-sensei intervened to avoid an all-out war in the group. It's been a while since she hoped the floor would crack open and swallow her whole.

"What's so fucking funny, asshole?!" Whatever the clown's finding so amusing is completely lost on her. If anything, she thought he'd freak out over being smacked.

Losing her patience and wanting to return to the dark cell at the other end of the block, Sakura brushes past him in a rush. This didn't turn out anything as she imagined on the way here. Too much was said and done. Crawling under the little sheet in her cubby and pretending none of this happened is the best idea for now. At least until she comes up with a way to remedy the situation.

"At-ta-ta-_ta!_ Where ya think you're goin'?" Fingers latch onto the back of her jumpsuit, trying to pull the pinkette back before getting off the bed. "Ya gonna just smack me around, then run? That's not very _nice_, is i-_t?"_

"Let go or I'll break every bone in your body…" She tried to put every ounce of poison in her voice, warning him how close she is to snapping.

"Lighten up, Sakura. I think we can call it even for that shit ya pulled earlier. I got pissed off and now, so are you. Heh! We both squeezed a _little_ bit of info outta each other. Glad to know you're not throwing it all over the place!" Hearing the obnoxious giggle assaulting her ears, it feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water down her back.

_'That jerkoff said all that to get a reaction from me… To find out more, just like I did to him this morning. J wanted to see what he's dealing with. Most importantly, his ego demanded to know the rejection wasn't about him. That way all the blame can fall on my shoulders… I can't fucking stand him!'_

"Besides, you're a medic. Though ya were 'spose to make me feel better, not break my damn bones." Yanking on the fabric in his fist, the pinkette lets herself fall back against the hard chest right behind her. It's unbearable to think she gave so much away from indignation.

_'Oh, no… I told him way too much. I might have to get rid of him now. He's never going to let me live this down. This assclown knows my real age, current sexual experience, and far more than I care to think about at the moment. How could I be so goddamn stupid?! I let myself get carried away from being too flustered… This is all his fault for showing so much!' _

"C'mon! Don't make that face, little witch. It's unbecoming for a _Queen_ to look like that. Hahah!" Glaring at the wall is the best option. She has no intention of seeing that _arrogant_ expression on his face.

"Fuck off. I hate you…" It might be immature, but Sakura couldn't care _less_.

"Oh, _really?_ Is that how ya feel?" Smacking his lips, Joker gives a stray pink lock a harsh tug. He's irritated by what she said, and that brings her a sliver of joy. Getting on his nerves will help her feel somewhat better. "I guess we'll just have to remedy that. _Hmm?"_

Looking up suspiciously, the clown has a nasty sneer on his face. Whatever he has in mind can't be anything good.

_'Dammit…'_


End file.
